


A Slip in the Time Stream

by bewaretheboojum



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman Beyond, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Future Fic, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-01-30 22:20:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21435619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bewaretheboojum/pseuds/bewaretheboojum
Summary: After a fight with Bruce, Tim crashes his motorcycle along a familiar stretch of road. He suddenly finds himself in a place that seems both very familiar and very different at the same time.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Terry McGinnis
Comments: 57
Kudos: 222





	1. A Familiar Stretch of Road

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to njw for all the beta help!

The late September night was just on the other side of chilly and Tim reveled in the cool air as it blew past him. He was taking his Ducati a touch too fast, leaning in a little more than he should on each turn as he sped back toward the Batcave. The wind was just starting to kick up as an early autumn storm loomed in the sky over him and Tim tried to use that as an excuse to drive faster.

It had been weeks since he had spoken to Bruce. Their last argument had devolved into Tim waving Bruce off and stalking out of the Cave, too furious to even speak at that point. At first Bruce had just had his siblings play messenger, obviously assuming that Tim would cool down at some point and start talking with him again. When that hadn't worked, Bruce started texting and calling himself. Tim had ignored all of Bruce's attempts to communicate with him, finding that, on this particular occasion, time didn't help.

Tim had always had a temper, he got that from his dad. But watching his dad blow up at him over the years, shout and yell and throw things, pull his TV out of the wall, it had all made Tim more aware of his own temper. It made him want to put distance between himself and the source of his anger instead of forcing a confrontation. 

There were a lot of ways Tim didn’t want to be like his dad. And aside from promising himself he would never blow up at people the way his dad blew up at him, which wasn’t always easy, Tim also promised himself he wouldn’t abandon people when they needed him either.

When Alfred had called that night, Tim was out on patrol in Gotham. Alfred generally tried to stay out of all of the family’s respective tiffs with Bruce, leaving the parties involved to sort it out themselves. So when Alfred did call Tim, he knew that things were serious.

Alfred told Tim that Bruce needed his help on a case. Not actually capable of telling Alfred 'no', Tim had agreed to stop back at the Cave after patrol.

Tim had spent the better part of the night trying hard not to think. He had spent the better part of the last three months trying not to think, actually. At least not about all the things he really should be thinking.

Large, cold drops of rain began to patter the pavement in front of him and Tim pushed up the throttle of his bike. Tim didn't think he was up for dealing with Bruce's particular brand of bullshit while also soggy and cold.

When Tim was about a mile and a half out from the Cave's entrance, the rain started to pick up and a large bolt of lightning flashed through the sky followed seconds later by a loud crash of thunder. The sound of the thunder sounded closer than Tim had expected it to and the concussive force of the sound made Tim go a little dizzy around the eyes.

Vertigo suddenly washing over him, Tim struggled to keep control of his bike. But the road was slick with new rain and Tim was dizzy and tired. Just as he tried to slow the bike he felt the tires of his Ducati lose their grip on the cement and Tim started to fall.

Closing his eyes, Tim braced for impact on the pavement. His body hit the ground and he immediately shifted into a roll. The expected painful jolt of the cement and the heavy weight of the bike never came and relief washed over Tim as he rolled out as far from his skidding bike as possible.

Tim stopped rolling when he came to the side of the road. He sat up, still feeling dizzy around the eyes and a little sick, and then looked out to assess the damage to his bike. The rain was coming down even harder now, and he had to squint to try and make out the darkened road. A flash of lightning revealed that Tim's Ducati was not where he expected it to be.

Taking a few moments to gather his nerves, Tim stood and walked out back to the road. Looking up and down the expanse of pavement, he didn't see his bike anywhere. There was also no sign that it had skidded off into the thick foliage and trees that lined either side of the road that led back to the Cave.

Tim paused then, barely breathing, taking in the area where he was standing. It was a very familiar stretch of road to him. He had come down this road hundreds of times in his life, in a car, on his bike, on foot as he ran...

He knew it better than any other stretch of road in Gotham and now...

Now it looked different. It was familiar, but...

The road wasn't kept up. The previously smooth pavement was pitted with cracks and potholes. The forest around the road was thicker than Tim remembered and tree branches had fallen to the surface of the pavement, blocking access. While the wind was still whipping up around him and the light was dim, he could tell from the level of decay that these were not new branches.

Then Tim flashed back on another moment of his life. Driving down this same stretch of road in the Redbird, just a few years after he became Robin and seeing Jason standing there, a brilliant flash of green and yellow and red getting slowly soaked by a pouring summer thunderstorm.

And then Tim remembered a time after that when it had been Dick, his Robin uniform torn and dirty from a rough patrol, trying to keep the rain off his hair by lifting his cape over his head.

"Shit..." Tim whispered to himself on the silent stretch of road.

Tim had taken them both to the Batcave, dried them off and hidden them away from Bruce until each of them had disappeared back into the Time Stream just as suddenly as they had come.

Apprehensive of what he would find, Tim started off down the road toward the Cave. Pulling his helmet off, he was grateful he hadn't suffered any actual damage when his bike had spun out on the road. Otherwise, this walk would have been long and painful...

It took Tim less than fifteen minutes to make it to the entrance of the Cave. Bruce usually left it open at night so that everyone could come and go as they pleased in their vehicles. Tonight, it was firmly shut.

Swearing under his breath, Tim eyed the side of the hill that hid the entrance to the Cave. Pushing through thick foliage, he got wetter still when water that had collected on the tops of the leaves cascaded down over him as he moved through the branches. It took him a bit to find it, but he finally located the control panel that opened the door to the cave. He flipped open the false door and was seriously disheartened, but not entirely surprised, to find the panel dead and unresponsive.

Tim sighed deeply, realizing he was going to have to do this the hard way.

It took Tim a little over an hour to find the manual lever to open the door. It was stuck and it took him longer than he would have liked to admit to lever the door open just enough for him to slip inside. Taking an extra minute, he shut the door behind him, just in case...

Not daring to take out his flashlight, Tim flicked his mask lenses to night vision as he made his way down the tunnel that led to the vehicle bay in the Cave. The road here was also pocked with potholes and cracks. He picked his way around small piles of debris that were scattered around the roadway. It was clear to him that no vehicles had passed through this area in quite some time. Possibly even years.

A sense of apprehension washed over Tim as he eyed his surroundings warily. He was no stranger to finding himself in strange situations, but he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as he saw the disrepair all around him. Bruce, Alfred, neither of them would have allowed their main thoroughfares to get this… bad. 

Swallowing hard, Tim walked the quarter of a mile to the vehicle bay, his anxiety and worry ramping up with each step he took. The familiar woosh of bat wings and the scent of damp earth and bat scat were somewhat soothing under the circumstances. Whatever had happened here, the bats were still around.

As Tim came in closer to the vehicle bay, he noticed a dim light starting to grow as he got closer and closer. It wasn’t the usual brilliant LED lights, but a dimmer sort of ambient light, clearly flowing out through a different part of the Cave. As Tim approached, he noticed that the vehicle bay was still full of cars, bikes and planes. A few he recognized, a few he didn’t. He eyed them as he picked his way across the bay and out towards the main area of the Cave.

It was cool in the Cave, cooler than Alfred had traditionally kept it. It felt damp as well, as if the dehumidifiers weren’t run as often as Tim was accustomed to. As he made his way past the trophies and toward the source of the light, he heard voices.

As he came full around the dinosaur, he saw the large bank of computers illuminated and humming as they processed data. A young man Tim didn’t recognize was standing next to the large chair Bruce had set up in front of the computer bank. The young man was running a hand over the back of his neck in a gesture that felt familiar in a way that Tim couldn’t quite pin down just then. 

The young man’s voice was low and sounded exhausted in a way that Tim could absolutely identify with. He was tall with broad shoulders hunched slightly from fatigue. He was dressed in a black uniform and boots. His skin was pale and his hair was dark and in need of a trim at the back of his neck. 

“I just don’t understand. The Jokerz are a pain in the ass for sure but they’re never actually this organized… or relentless…” the younger man said.

“Hmmmmm,” came a very familiar hum from behind the back of the computer chair.

It was Bruce’s voice. That, Tim was certain of. It sounded different though. Reedier. Older. Maybe a little more tired than Tim was used to hearing. 

But it was Bruce’s voice nonetheless. Tim felt some measure of relief wash over him.

“Do you think someone new took over the gang? Someone more organized calling the shots?” the younger man pressed.

“It’s hard to say. It’s certainly worth looking into.”

The young man puffed out a deep sigh and shook his head, staring up the large computer screen. 

The screen displayed security camera footage of what looked like an office building. A gang of young people dressed up like idiots, faces painted and clothes looking like something they stole off of clown mannequins in a theme park, wrought havoc through the building. They were trashing office equipment and throwing chairs through windows. 

At this point, Tim didn’t really have any cover. He was just standing, out in the open in the Cave. It seemed like neither the kid or Bruce had noticed him. He crept in just a bit closer to get a better look at the footage.

One of the gang members was tagging the walls of the office building with bright neon green spray paint. Using large looping letters to write the gang’s symbol “HAHAHAHAHA” across every open surface. Tim fought down a shudder as his mind went back to the territory symbols that used to be scrawled on the walls of almost every building in Gotham City during No Man’s Land. 

“I just wish I knew why they picked that spot? What the hell they were doing there…” the young man said, frustration clear in his voice.

“It looks to me,” Tim answered him, “that they’re being deliberately ostentatious about the whole thing. Like they want to be found.” 

Then, several things happened all at the same time. The large computer chair spun around, revealing a hunched, white haired Bruce, shock clear on his face. The young man also twisted to look behind himself at Tim. That was when Tim saw the red Bat symbol on his chest and he narrowed his eyes. 

When the young man caught sight of Tim, he touched a panel on his belt and a black and red batarang shot out. He threw it at Tim, but he hadn’t turned smoothly, his body was twisted and the batarang was easy to dodge. 

Tim moved in quickly, using the young man’s off balance stance to trip him into an arm lock. Tim used the arm lock as leverage to skate the meat of his palm up the man’s chest, hook it under his chin and arch him back, locking his spine. Tim held the young man, arm and spine locked and back arched, twisting him and placing him between himself and a shocked Bruce who had just gotten to his feet.

“I think you need to get your hearing aid checked, old man,” Tim teased lightly. “I got way closer than I should have without you two noticing.”

“Tim,” Bruce breathed and he and Tim locked eyes for a long, tense moment before…

“What the fucking, fucking, fuck,” the younger man gasped out breathlessly.

The man whose spine Tim had locked was not happy. He was struggling to get out of Tim’s hold, but with about half of the joints in his skeleton locked up, he wasn’t getting very far.

“You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep struggling,” Tim said to him, conversationally.

Bruce tried, and nearly failed, to hide a smile as he shook his head.

“Let him go,” Bruce commanded. “He’s fine.”

“Is he going to throw things at me again?” Tim asked Bruce.

“He won’t,” Bruce confirmed.

“The hell I won’t!” the young man yelled. “I’m gonna throw everything at you. I’m gonna throw that fucking dinosaur at you.”

“Language,” Tim admonished, reversing the lock on the guy’s spine and arm. “Rule number 17: No Swearing in the Bat Cave. It’s uncouth.” 

The young man stumbled as he pulled away from Tim, blue eyes flashing and furious.

“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded, eyes cutting between Tim and Bruce as he panted in anger.

His hair was mussed from their altercation and his pale cheeks were flushed pink with fury.

“Funny, I was about to ask you the same question. That’s an interesting uniform you’re wearing.”

“I’m Batman,” the man bit out, his voice deepening as he spoke.

“Are you,” Tim said evenly, not quite a question, but not quite anything else either.

Tim felt a loud buzzing in his ears as a dim sort of fury overtook him.

“Yes,” the young man shot back defiantly. “I am.”

Tim kept his eyes locked on the young man’s face as he spoke.

“He’s very young, Bruce.”

“You don’t look any older than me!” the kid shot back. “Actually, you look younger.”

“Possibly,” Tim conceded. “But I’m better.”

Shaking his head abruptly, the kid tugged anxiously at his hair as he spun on Bruce. Tim took a moment to take in the young man’s face. It was tight with anger and exhaustion, a flush of red spread out across high cheekbones and the full lipped, expressive mouth was pressed into a thin line of fury. His thick black hair fell over his forehead in a mussed tangle and his broad shoulders quivered with suppressed rage. 

“Who the fuck is this?”

“This is Timothy Drake. And he’s right about rule 17.”

“What?” the young man spluttered.

“No swearing in the Bat Cave,” Tim clarified and stepped in closer, looking Bruce up and down.

Bruce eyed him right back, his expression glinting with what Tim would have sworn was emotion if Tim didn’t know Bruce all too well.

“Should I… Should I even ask what year it is?” he asked Bruce in a softer tone of voice.

“I’m not sure,” Bruce admitted. “You’re twenty-two, right now?”

“Twenty-three,” Tim clarified. 

Bruce nodded, knowingly. 

“So then definitely younger than me,” the young man said.

“By a few months, Terry,” Bruce pointed out.

“Terry?” Tim pressed, lifting an eyebrow at Bruce.

“Terry McGinnis,” Bruce clarified. 

“A name doesn’t actually answer who you are, though,” McGinnis pointed out, glaring at Tim.

“Excellent point,” Tim said.

“Tim was… Tim was Robin. For a time,” Bruce said, haltingly.

“I don’t need a Robin,” Terry shot back to Tim.

“Oh good, because I don’t need a Batman,” Tim replied, evenly. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Tim could see Bruce flinch at that.

“How did you get here?” Bruce asked. “Time travel? Are you on a mission?”

Tim turned to face Bruce then, taking a deep breath. 

“No mission,” Tim said. “How I got here is… unclear. I mean, unclear aside from the usual.”

“The usual?” McGinnis asked.

“The usual temporal anomalies that happen around the Cave,” Tim said with a shrug. 

“I haven’t experienced any temporal anomalies around the Cave,” McGinnis said, looking to Bruce for answers.

“Neither have I,” Bruce said after a pause.

“What? No I mean, you remember when Dick and Jason came forward, right?”

“When Dick and Jason came forward?” Bruce repeated back like a question. 

“They didn’t tell you? They came forward in time, just like, tugged out of the Cave in their time to my time. Each of them. With Dick it was more than once. They never told you?”

“No… You never told me either.”

“No,” Tim said evenly. “I suppose I didn’t.”

“This has happened to you before?” 

“I mean, past Jason and Dick came to my timeline, but I’ve never uh… visited anyone else,” Tim said.

“You never looked into what caused it?” Bruce asked.

“Of course I did, I just didn’t find any clear answers,” Tim replied smoothly.

“If you had found clear answers would you tell us now?” McGinnis asked shrewdly. 

“Hard to say,” Tim said, tilting his head to one side and considering.

“How did you get them home?” Bruce asked. “When they… visited you.” 

Tim shrugged and shook his head.

“I didn’t. Eventually, they just…” Tim trailed off and fluttered his hand expansively. 

“That’s helpful,” McGinnis sneered.

“It’s more than you’re bringing to the table, McGinnis,” Tim shot back.

“Can I hit him?” McGinnis asked Bruce. “Just one time?”

“Actually, I think we’ve already established that you cannot,” Tim pointed out coolly.

“You little—”

“Boys,” Bruce said in a hauntingly familiar tone of voice. 

McGinnis turned and glared at Bruce.

“Don’t talk to me like that. I’m not your kid and I’m not your Robin,” McGinnis bit out, glaring balefully at Bruce.

The silence that fell over the Cave was tight and tense. Before McGinnis or Bruce said another word, an alert sounded out from the Bat Computer. 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

The alert made Terry start and he turned instinctively to look up at the screen of the Bat Computer.

“The Jokerz again,” Bruce said, hobbling back over to his computer chair, leaning heavily on his cane. He sat down in his chair with a thick exhalation of air. Terry moved over to stand next to him, leaning a shoulder against the chair, feeling more tired than he realized he could. 

Drake also moved toward the computer. In a series of movements obviously born of habit, he sat with his back to the computer screen, butt resting on the bank and foot on the arm of Bruce’s chair as he looked back up over his shoulder at the screen. 

McGinnis eyed Drake as he settled in and Bruce looked over at him with a small smile hovering at the corners of his mouth, as if that was where Drake always sat. 

“A gang named The Jokerz?” Drake asked, pursing his lips as he looked up at the screen.

“Yes, as an homage to—”

“Yeah, I get it,” Drake cut Bruce off. “Is that one carrying a crowbar?”

“They have a unique sense of humor,” Bruce said grimly.

“Patently,” Drake said dryly.

“Where’s the break in?” Terry asked.

“Bookhead Neighborhood,” Bruce said.

“The what now?” Drake asked.

“The Water District flooded a few years back,” Bruce explained. “This is about eight blocks east of where that used to be.”

“I can be there in about five minutes,” Terry said, pushing off from Bruce’s chair and heading over to grab his mask.

“I’m coming too, but I’ll need—”

“You’re not coming,” Terry said, whirling around to face Drake.

Drake came up short in front of Terry. He pursed his lips and shook his head.

“Listen McGinnis, you’re clearly exhausted. If you had anyone else for backup, B would have you benched right now.”

“I don’t need—”

“Yeah, I get it. Let’s establish three things right now. One: You don’t need my help. Got it. That’s fine. Two: You’d be at a strategic advantage if I came, they won’t be expecting two of us. And three: I really want to make that dude with the crowbar cry.”

Terry couldn’t help but laugh at that. Bruce made a small sound of protest and Drake turned to face him.

“For justice,” Drake said sweetly to Bruce. “And because that’s what Jason would want us to do.”

“Just… Don’t maim anyone,” Bruce said dryly, closing his eyes in frustration.

“No promises,” Drake said to Bruce. “You got a com for me, B? I’m assuming mine is no longer up to date.”

Bruce dug out a spare communicator and Drake replaced the one in his ear. They tested to make sure it worked and when Drake was satisfied, he turned to look at Terry.

“To the Batmobile, Batman,” he said with a grin. 

Terry huffed out a laugh and tugged his mask over his head as Drake followed him over to the vehicle bay.

“Alright, but I still don’t like you and I’m driving,” Terry said. 

“That’s fine, you can drive. I think my bike may be lost somewhere in the time stream, anyway.”

Terry punched the button on his belt that revved up the Batmobile. The top slid back as the Batmobile began to hover. Drake stopped short when he saw it.

“You have a hover car,” he said woodenly.

“You don’t?” Terry asked, grinning at Drake.

Drake didn’t answer, just slid eagerly into the Batmobile next to Terry. 

Even though Drake was wearing a dark black domino, Terry could tell he was taking in every inch of the control panel. Drake’s uniform was red and black with yellow accents and it was heavily armored. He had a belt bristling with pockets and long black cape.

It was…

There were a lot of display cases in the Cave with a lot of different uniforms. Robin, Batgirl, Nightwing, a few he couldn’t identify. This uniform that Drake was wearing was unfamiliar to Terry. He had never seen it before, either at the Cave or on vids. 

Terry punched the coordinates into the control panel of the Batmobile.

“They’re still in the building,” Bruce’s voice came in over the com. “A few more of them just showed up.”

“Oh good,” Drake said. “More than enough to share.”

“When you get there, you’ll need to—”

“Assess the situation and come up with a game plan. Yeah, B. We know,” Drake cut in. “From what we saw in the footage, it looks like it’ll be a close quarters fight with at least ten adversaries. We’ll use formation H-15 and adapt to F-36 if things get dicey.”

“Wait, what?” Terry asked, feeling totally lost. “H-36?”

“No,” Drake said tentatively. “H-15 then into F-36 if we need to.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

Drake’s lips pursed and he narrowed his eyes under his domino.

“So,” Bruce cut in then. “I’ll give you directions over the com.”

“B,” Drake said in a tight tone of voice. “You and I are gonna have some words later.”

“Later,” Bruce agreed. 

“We’ll be there in just under two minutes,” Terry said.

“Well then, let’s get ready to rumble.”

Terry popped the roof of the Batmobile when they arrived. He and Drake crashed through a skylight right into the middle of the fray. 

“Terry, you take the two on your left,” Bruce commanded. “Aim low, they’ll be swinging high.”

Terry followed Bruce’s orders and went after the two Jokerz to his left, aiming low and kicking their legs out from under them. They hit the ground with a skid and Terry followed up with a couple of kicks.

“Tim focus on the three to your—” Bruce broke off mid-sentence and Terry could all but hear him clenching his teeth over the communicator. 

Terry saw Drake fly past him out of the corner of his eye, clearly not following Bruce’s orders. Instead, he had lunged at a group behind Terry. A flash of silver caught Terry’s eye and he watched, almost stunned, as Drake scoped open a bo. Three swings of that bo, two kicks and a punch later, four Jokerz were laid out on the ground.

“Tim—” Bruce cut in, “you need to.”

“No, you don’t have a good enough vantage point from the Cave. We’ll call the shots here. Batman, to your right.”

Terry turned just in time to duck a round-house punch from another Joker. Drake came up behind him and shoved the man, who tripped over Terry and hit the ground hard. Drake leapt over a broken table to come in close and hit the guy across the side of the head with his staff. 

Drake spun then and pointed to two Jokerz coming down the stairs after them. One was wearing a green clown outfit and the other was wearing a pink dress with a red wig. 

“I got the green one!” Drake called, almost cheerfully.

Terry took the one in pink. The guy in pink pulled out a billy club and took a swing at Terry. Jumping back away from the club, Terry dispensed a batarang into his hand. He was just lifting it to throw when the the man dressed in green flew across the room and into the man in pink. Terry looked up at Drake in shock. 

Drake was grinning at him and gave him a thumbs up before rushing over and hitting one of them with the end of his bo. There was a flash and a sizzle as he activated a taser at the end of his bo. Both the men convulsed and then fell slack and unconscious.

“I think Mr. Crowbar is upstairs,” Drake said. “First one to make him cry wins.”

Drake took off up the stairs and Terry followed close behind.

“Boys, be careful—” Bruce started in and Terry cut him off.

“What did I say about the ‘boys’ thing?” Terry hissed over the coms.

“Ohhhh, he’s pissed at you, B,” Drake singsonged as they made their way past one landing and up to the next. “You better watch it or he’ll steal your hover car.”

“Why would I want to do that? I can use it whenever I want?”

“Tim is trying to establish you as the guilty party before he tries to steal my hover car,” Bruce said, deadpan.

“Me?” Drake said, grinning as he came to the top of the stairs. One of the Jokerz was waiting there with a shotgun and Drake disarmed him with a smoothly thrown batarang before jumping forward and kicking the man in the throat. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Terry and Drake came up on the second floor. Drake slid into an easy ready position and Terry took in the room. 

“Save Mr. Crowbar for last!” Drake called to Terry as they both eyed the group in front of them.

There were five more Jokerz, including Mr. Crowbar, as Drake had dubbed him. 

Mr. Crowbar and another man dressed in neon orange were off along a far wall. The three others were making their way to a window with a fire escape. Clearly trying to get away. 

Drake tossed a couple of batarangs at Mr. Crowbar and the orange man, distracting them as one flashed and one popped open in a billowing cloud of smoke. They were cursing and blinking behind Drake and Terry as the two of them made for the three Jokerz by the window.

Terry leaped forward, using the propulsion on the suit to add more force to his kick as he hit one of the Jokerz square in the chest. The man blasted through the window in a shower of glass and hit the railing of the fire escape outside with a loud bang. He hit the grated platform of the fire escape and didn’t move, air knocked from his lungs.

“Nice work, Batman,” Drake said, clearly impressed. “But can you do this?”

One of the Jokerz had taken a swing at Drake, who had dodged the punch and gripped the man by one of his arms. Faster than Terry could actually make out, Drake threw the man into the remaining Joker. They both went down with loud cries and Drake hit them with his taser again. He tossed Terry some zip strips and nodded to the wheezing Joker on the fire escape.

“For our friend outside,” Drake said, before turning to make his way back to Mr. Crowbar and Friend.

Terry zip stripped the man to the fire escape and made to follow Drake. 

Mr. Crowbar and Friend were sitting on the floor, rubbing the smoke out of their eyes as they blinked up at Drake and Terry. Terry came to stand beside Drake, who was standing over the Jokerz, menacingly.

“So, I’m under strict orders not to maim you two,” Drake said conversationally. “But, tonight, I’m not feeling particularly inclined to follow orders, are you Batman?”

“Oh, I’m almost never inclined to follow orders,” Terry said, pitching his voice low and threatening.

Drake turned to him and grinned.

“I like the way you think.”

Mr. Crowbar and Friend were stammering up at Terry and Drake, then flinched back and away as Drake leaned down to pick the crowbar up from where it had been dropped.

Drake slapped the crowbar against the palm of his hand, as if testing it.

“Tim—” Bruce’s voice came in over the coms, clearly deep with warning. 

Drake dropped to a crouch so he was eye level with the two Jokerz. He tilted his head to one side as looked the two of them over.

“So Batman and I were talking tonight. About a couple of things. One of the things we were talking about was why you idiots are picking these spots to hit.”

The Jokerz were shaking blinking at Drake, fear clear in their eyes.

“We were also wondering which of us would be the first to make you cry…” Drake said, then ran a hand lovingly down the crow bar. “I think it’ll be me. What do you two think?”

“They just told us to!” the guy in orange yelled. “We don’t know why they picked these places. They just gave us an address and told us to raise a little hell. Be loud, they said.”

Drake watched the man in orange for a long moment before looking up and back at Terry.

“You believe him, Batman?” Drake asked, in a skeptical tone of voice.

“No,” Terry bit out, in his best Batman snarl.

“Well… You guys heard Batman,” Drake tilted his head back and forth and shrugged, as if there wasn’t anything he could do about the situation. “He thinks you’re lying so…”

Drake made as if to lift the crow bar when Mr. Crowbar wailed. 

“Noooo! He’s telling the truth! We just don’t know!” Mr. Crowbar shouted, his voice high and tight with panic. Pale, nude colored tracks began to form in the white and black makeup on his face as tears sprang up and started to fall from his eyes.

“Oh!” Drake yelled, grinning up at Terry. “We have a winner!”

Drake stood then, tossing the crow bar to the side and applying the taser end of his bo staff to each of the Jokerz in turn.

“You wanna call the cops, Hot Stuff? I don’t think I have their number anymore.”

“I already called them,” Bruce put in grimly. “They’ll be there in three minutes.”

“To the Batmobile?” Terry asked, smiling at Drake. 

“To the Batmobile,” Drake agreed.

Two minutes later they were strapped into the Batmobile and flying out across Gotham City.

“You sure you don’t want me to fly?” Drake asked, looking longingly at the control panel.

“Do you know how to fly a hover car?” Terry asked.

“I’m a fast learner.”

“I’ll just bet you are.”

They made it back to the Cave in under ten minutes. Terry did promise to show Drake how to drive the thing later. 

“I’m only letting you put me off because I’m pretty sure you’re too tired to give me coherent instructions,” Drake said. 

“Schway.” 

“What?”

“Nevermind,” Terry said. “You did good tonight.”

“Hmmm, so did you. Even bone tired.”

“So which of us do you think made him cry?”

“Team effort,” Drake said firmly.

Terry laughed.

Terry was practically asleep on his feet when he dropped Drake off at the Cave. Bruce had clearly already gone up to sleep and Tim eyed the empty Cave as Terry pulled off his uniform and stuffed a spare into his backpack.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” Terry asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“If the Gods of the Time Stream don’t drag me back to where I came from,” Drake said, eyeing the Cave with a guarded expression on his face. “It’s so… cozy,” Drake said, referring to the Cave. 

Terry huffed out a laugh and shook his head. 

“Yeah, you know. Caves usually are.”

“You do know that it actually used to be, right?”

“Used to be what?”

“Cozy.”

“Are you messing with me right now, Drake?”

Drake took a deep and shook his head, eyeing the stairs up to the Manor.

“Cold hard truth time, McGinnis: I’m scared to go upstairs.”

“Scared? Of what?”

“Ghosts.” Drake said simply. 

Terry wasn’t sure how to respond to that. 

Shortly after that, Terry left, watching Drake take the stairs back up to the Manor slowly. He drove home, trying not to think about what Drake had meant by that. When he got home, he fell into bed. Despite his exhaustion, Terry had a hard time falling asleep. Drake’s words echoed in his head.

Ghosts.


	2. Sightseeing in Neo Gotham

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terry and Tim have a long talk. Tim does some sightseeing. Bruce hears some things he doesn't want to hear. And Terry takes a fall.

Terry spent most of the next day, thinking about Drake. A few text messages from Bruce indicated that Drake had stuck around through the night. Whatever Mysteries of the Time Stream brought him there, hadn’t sent him back home yet. Terry didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed.

Maybe a little of both. 

Last night had been interesting. While Drake had absolutely pissed him off at first, it was fun to work with him in the field. He was smart and fast and good on his feet. He worked well with Terry and patrolling with Drake made taking those Jokerz out go a lot faster and smoother. Terry hadn’t come home with a single additional bruise after the second scuffle and he had gotten to bed a lot earlier than he expected.

Bruce had mentioned on their morning call that Drake was pitching in and doing Terry’s usual duties around the Manor that day, which was fine in Terry’s book. He could use the break. 

Maybe catch up on some chores around his place and his mom’s...

Dusk had just fallen when Terry finally finished his errands. Arms full of groceries, Terry spotted a couple of Jokerz hanging out behind the cheese dog place on 8th street. Terry tucked his groceries in his car and ducked down in the backseat to change into his uniform.

Terry had just crashed their party and was about to start asking questions when the Batmobile came roaring up behind them. Drake jumped out and landed next to Terry on the pavement.

"You learned to drive it?" Terry asked, impressed that Drake had figured it out so fast.

"I told you I'm a quick study," Drake said and grinned at him.

“How many times did you crash?”

“Shhhh, B’s listening…”

It took them less than ten minutes to take the goons downs. Drake tried his hand at interrogating them, but it became clear pretty quickly that they didn’t know anything. 

They zip stripped all of them and called the cops. Terry was just about to suggest to Drake that they hop back into the Batmobile and regroup at the Cave when Bruce’s voice came in over the speaker.

“Time to come home, b—.” Bruce caught himself before he said the word ‘boys’ again. “Time to come home,” he finished lamely.

“Ummmm, maybe later, B. Batman’s gonna show me the city. You know, new sights. New sounds. New ice cream shops.”

“Tim—”

“Later B,” Drake said and turned off his com before reaching over and toggling Terry’s off as well. 

“Hey, you can’t just—” Terry started, looking at Drake in surprise. 

“I can’t just tell Bruce to suck it? Yeah, I kinda can. I’ve made something of a career out of it, in fact…” Drake said.

Terry huffed out a laugh. Drake turned to him and grinned.

“So where does a guy need to go in this town to get a milkshake?”

“You’re kidding right?” 

Drake, it turned out, wasn't joking. He grabbed them each a burrito and a couple of milkshakes before insisting they take the Batmobile to the top of a tall skyscraper. Drake parked it and powered it off before hopping out, food in hand. Terry followed him and Drake set up shop on the side of the building, feet dangling twenty-five stories above the ground.

Drake pulled out his burrito and started unwrapping it. He paused when he saw that Terry hadn't joined him. He patted the cement wall next to him, invitingly.

"Pull up a chair?" Drake joked.

"It really doesn't bother you to sit like that?"

"Does it bother you?"

Even under the domino mask, Terry could tell Drake had an eyebrow lifted in inquiry.

Not wanting to seem like a coward, Terry sat down next to him and pulled out his own food.

"You always sit up this high?" Terry asked, pulling down the wrapper on his burrito.

"When we're eating," Drake shrugged. "It's hard to be intimidating when there are pictures of you circulating around the internet with hot sauce smeared on your face."

"Good point," Terry said. Then paused, trying to figure out how he was going to eat without taking off his mask. "You're sure no one can see us?"

Drake looked over at him shrewdly as he chewed his bite of food.

"Do you just not eat in the uniform?"

"Not... usually..."

"Just lift it enough to expose your mouth," Drake said, then turned back to his food.

Terry lifted his mask up over his nose, exposing just his mouth before taking a bite of burrito.

"You guys did this a lot?"

"I'm actually more surprised that you never do..."

"Did Ba— Did B?"

Drake paused and thought about that for a minute before answering.

"He does, but not as often as the rest of do."

"The rest of you... The Robins?"

"Among others."

"Does that get annoying?"

"It's interesting that you jump right to annoying..." Drake mused.

"I have a kid brother who is way annoying..."

Drake hummed around a mouthful of burrito as he watched Terry intently.

Drake had a way of watching him. Terry couldn't see his eyes, had never seen his eyes, but he knew that Drake was taking in every micro-expression and twitch in his body language as he spoke. Bruce watched him that way sometimes too. It felt like they were looking right through Terry's skin and bones, to his thoughts.

"Tell me about you and B," Drake said, suddenly.

"Uhh... Not much to tell," Terry hedged.

"The coms are off," Drake reminded him.

"I know, but it's the truth. There really isn't much to tell."

"I think we both know that’s not the truth," Drake said, and his voice was low and matter of fact.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that, with B, there's always a lot to tell."

"Maybe you should go first, then."

"I mean, that's fair but..."

"But?"

"I've spent the better part of my life developing coping mechanisms for handling B. I feel like maybe you haven't and that's... You know he's not right all of the time, right? He may sound like he is and he may think he is, but he's not. Part of you being Batman needs to be calling him on his bullshit. Because the man has mountains of bullshit."

Terry was quiet for a long moment, not really sure how to answer and suddenly not feeling very hungry anymore.

Drake puffed out a sigh and put his food down, shifting on the wall and bringing one leg up, half criss-cross applesauce and half hanging out over the great beyond.

"I feel like maybe he's isolating you. That you don't have a frame of reference for anything but what he gives you. That bothers me. You need... You need people other than B because he can't and won't always be there for you."

"I have other people," Terry protested.

"Other people in the life?"

"I've met Grayson," Terry said but even to himself, his voice sounded lame.

Drake huffed a laugh out of his nose and shook his head.

"You haven't met Dick. Not really. Not in the ways that count, anyway."

"How do you know?"

"I can tell by the way you move."

"The way I—" Terry broke off mid-sentence, trying to wrap his head around that.

"I don't mean... Don't get me wrong. You're good. You're talented. I'm only telling you this because I feel like B is doing you a disservice not exposing you to other teams..."

"I work with the Justice League," Terry protested. "Sometimes..."

"That's... Promising."

"But not enough? At least, you don't think so."

"I think... I think dealing with all of this is hard. And the only thing that makes it easier is having someone who understands. Not just that they understand that your schedule is erratic and your first priority will always be to the Mission. I mean that they understand how you feel when you come home after you've taken a beating. They understand the night terrors and the pain and how it feels to be afraid all of the time. Those are hard things to get and I'm worried the only other person in your life who does get that is the kind of person who would also tell you that he doesn’t."

As Drake spoke, Terry felt his throat begin to tighten and his eyes begin to prick. He blinked back the moisture in his eyes and grabbed his milkshake, taking a long sip to hide the tremble of his lower lip.

"He's isolating you," Drake said softly, reaching out a hand to cup Terry's shoulder. "It's not good for you."

Terry nodded and swallowed hard, breathing hard through his nose.

He never realized...

Terry had never really been able to put words to what he had been feeling these past few years with Bruce, at least not until Drake described what he had been experiencing so exactly.

Bruce was always so stoic. His expression never shifted when he sewed and taped Terry back together after a rough night. When Terry showed up to work looking even more tired than when he left because nightmares had interrupted his REM cycle too often for him to get any real rest, Bruce just told him to pull himself together and handed him a cup of coffee. When Terry got the irrational urge to call and text his mom, Matt and Max every hour or so, just to check and make sure they were ok, Bruce told him to focus up.

He never seemed to feel things the way Terry did. He never seemed to internalize them.

But it sounded like Drake did.

"I never..." Terry started but his voice cracked and he had to swallow and try again. "I never really thought about it that way before."

Drake sighed and shifted away from Terry. He propped his arms behind himself and leaned back on them, elbows locked. He turned his head up to the night sky and closed his eyes under his domino.

"Yeah, stuff like that creeps up on you. Sometimes you think you're fine and then..." Tim trailed off and made a 'poooof' noise and lifted a hand to wiggle his fingers to mimic an explosion. "B is always so Mission oriented he works past the 'poof', for better or worse..." Drake paused thinking and then nodded his head as if agreeing with himself. "A lot of times for the worse..."

"What do you mean?" Terry asked.

"I— I became Robin because he was so spectacularly failing to cope without one. I was sure one night I was going to watch him die and I knew someone needed to step in. It seems unfair that he surrounded himself with all of us, he surrounded all of us with each other, and you don't get that."

"You're saying I need a Robin?" Terry asked, feeling a little amused and exasperated.

"No, B needed a Robin. You need something else."

“Drake…”

“Call me Tim.”

"Ok, Tim then. What does that mean, exactly?"

"You need a mentor that isn't B. A friend. An equal. Someone to share a milkshake with after a long night of beating down Jokerz."

With that Drake lifted his milkshake and tapped it against Terry's in a mock toast.

"Someone like you?" Terry asked, curiously.

Drake huffed out a laugh and shook his head.

"Oh McGinnis, I'm the last thing you need."

^*^*^*^*^*^

After they finished their burritos and milkshakes, they switched their coms back on and went out on patrol. Bruce didn't say a word when the line went live again, but the tense silence on the other end of the com link spoke volumes. Bruce was brusque as he gave directions and suggestions over the coms.

Tim made a point to either ignore or contradict Bruce as much as was wise, just to show Terry that it could be done.

Tim patrolled with McGinnis until about midnight. Then Tim shut the coms off again and bullied McGinnis to head home and get some extra sleep. McGinnis hadn't put up much of a fight. It was clear the guy had a sleep debt that rivaled Tim's own and he had fewer people to depend on when it came time to pay that due.

Then Tim...

Then Tim took some time to look around Neo Gotham.

The lights, the buildings, the architecture and the city planning all looked so different and so very much the same. Seeing it all from so high above was breathtaking. At several points throughout the evening Tim wished fervently he had his camera.

Tim headed back to the Cave around two in the morning. Bruce was still sitting by the computer when he came back.

"Where's McGinnis?" Bruce asked shortly, when Tim came up behind him.

Tim didn't answer right away, just settled into his usual spot, facing Bruce with his back to the Batcomputer, butt resting against the computer bay and a foot braced against the arm of Bruce's chair.

Bruce pointedly didn't look at him when Tim sat down. Tim very pointedly looked directly at Bruce.

"I told him to get some extra shut eye. He looked like he could use it."

"He's not home and he's not asleep," Bruce said shortly.

Tim... wasn't surprised.

"There are things other than sleep a guy our age needs to get caught up on sometimes, B," Tim said, letting amusement lace his words.

Bruce looked up at him sharply.

"Like gossip?" Bruce asked, his voice sounded more aggressive and accusatory than Tim ever remembered hearing it.

Tim blanked his face and worked to keep his voice neutral when he responded.

"We weren't gossiping about you," Tim said evenly.

"No? Then why did you turn the com links off?"

Tim shrugged expansively and shook his head.

"There are some things that you don't need to know, Bruce."

Bruce huffed out a bitter laugh and shook his head.

"The amount of things you think I don't need to know is vast."

"I don't think it's me we should be talking about right now, B," Tim said evenly, trying to keep his voice from sounding tight with anger. "There are other things you should be focusing on."

"You don't think I've trained him appropriately."

"Neither of us thinks you've trained him appropriately."

"I've been with him every step of the way—" Bruce started defensively and Tim cut in.

"Yeah but what about when you're not there? What about when he's all alone? What about when you're gone or asleep or anything else? What about then? Would you say he's ready?"

"You think I need to send him on solo patrols? What if he needs back up?"

"That's an excellent question, what if he needs back up now, Bruce? Who do you send?"

Bruce went quiet for a long moment, not answering.

"He reminds you of Jason," Bruce said then, tentatively. "You were always protective of Jason."

Tim let out a bitter laugh and shook his head.

"He doesn't remind me of Jason, Bruce. I think he reminds you of Jason and I think that scares you. I think that makes you want to make him need you, rely on you. I think it makes you want to isolate him and keep him close and watch his every move."

"I don't—"

"You do, Bruce. You can't lie to me."

Bruce shook his head and swallowed hard. Tim nudged Bruce's chair with his foot until Bruce looked up at him.

"You need to let him spend more time with the League," Tim said softly. "You need to let him find a support system. You won't be here forever and Gotham will still need a Batman."

A long silence stretched between them, the only sounds the distant cries of the bats and the rushing water of the river beneath them.

"It's late. I should sleep," Bruce said finally, levering himself to his feet.

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea," Tim agreed, slipping into the computer chair that Bruce had just vacated. "I'm going to play with your very nice computer and see if I can't find a connection between all of the sites those Jokerz have been hitting."

Bruce gave him a tight little smile in response.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"No problem B," Tim said, already focused on the computer in front of him. "You sleep well."

Bruce didn't leave right away. He stood where he was for several long moments, watching Tim type at the keyboard, almost as if watching a ghost.

It was a feeling Tim could relate to.

Being in the Manor felt a lot like being in a haunted house right now. Most of the Manor was closed off, doors locked and curtains closed. Bruce no longer slept in the wing of the Manor that had housed all of their bedrooms over the years. He had moved down to a smaller suite on the first floor with an attached bathroom. 

No need to go up stairs to get to bed…

Many of the sitting rooms and living rooms were closed off too. Furniture and art had drop cloths and sheets draped over them. The den where Bruce bent enough to let them set up a big entertainment system and some video game consoles was still uncovered, pictures of the family still on the wall and a collection of movies still on the shelves. It was dusty though, and didn’t look like it got much use.

He was almost glad the bedroom wing was closed off. Seeing all of his siblings’ rooms empty and abandoned...

Seeing the Manor like this, the skeleton of the house that had been his home for so many years, was eerie to Tim. He could almost hear the echoes of his siblings voices in the halls and the kitchen.

How many years had it been since the last movie night in that den?

How many years had it been since anyone had visited Bruce, come to sit with him at the dinner table and chat?

How many years had it been since someone made ice cream sundaes in the kitchen downstairs? 

How many years had it been since the last of the family photos had been taken?

Tim…

Didn’t want to think about it.

When Bruce finally went up to sleep, Tim got back to work in earnest.

Scanning through dozens of police reports, Tim input all the locations the Jokerz had hit, entering a search for similarities between them. The issue was, the spots were all random. An office, a library, a house, an animal shelter, a fast food place... All of the locations were so different it almost looked as if they were picked at random.

Tim worked for hours without any clear indication of what the draw would be for these locations until he finally decided to lean on the Occam’s Razor approach. The simplest answer to the question of what these places had in common was that none of them had anything in common.

So then what was prompting the unusual activity from the gang?

Tim then turned to look at the timing of the attacks, and that's when he had a hit. All the times of the Jokerz raid's matched up almost exactly with shipping manifests from the dockyards. The manifests were all for the same organization: PP Shipping.

Tim dug a little deeper into PP Shipping and found, via several poorly made shell companies, that it was owned by one Paxton Powers. Tim did a little digging into Paxton Powers and found that both Bruce and Terry had tangled with him in the past. He had connections with a meta called Blight and seemed like the money behind a lot of shady business in Gotham City.

Tim leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

It was possible that Paxton Powers was trying to create a diversion, drawing Batman away from the dock yards during the times of certain shipments.

Now Tim just needed to figure out why.

^*^*^*^*^*^

Bruce was alone in the Batcave when Terry got there the next day. As Terry came down the steps from the Manor, he spotted Bruce going through some old boxes of equipment. Bruce didn't acknowledge Terry as he came up behind him, too focused on a piece of machinery he had just pulled from a plastic tote box.

"Planning a yard sale, Old Man?" Terry asked, reaching to take the item from Bruce's hand.

Bruce pulled it back and away from Terry, turning to glare at him.

"I can't imagine the type of attention we would draw if we even considered selling these items."

"What is that?" Terry asked, nodding towards Bruce's hands.

"It was part of a Mother Box."

"A what now?"

"Never mind," Bruce said, shortly.

In a fluid movement, he turned around, limping heavily as he brought the piece of equipment to a dusty bench in a corner of the Cave they rarely used. The surface looked newly cleaned and there were several other pieces of machinery laid out carefully. A box full of tools and soldering iron were tucked to one corner of the bench.

"Whatcha working on?"

"If you have time to talk you have time to train," Bruce said shortly. "Fire up the robots and run through the scenario with Luthor."

Pulling a pair of goggles with attached bifocals, Bruce leaned over the bench, examining the parts he was working with.

"Uhhhhh, I hate to break it to you B, but Luthor's been dead for decades. I don't think I need to worry about taking him in a fight."

"My former protege traveled through time two days ago and broke into this Cave. Do you seriously think you don't need to worry about the dead?"

"Technically he didn't break in..." Terry hedged. "Technically he—"

Terry stopped short when Bruce looked up at him sharply and glared at him through the goggles. He actually looked more like a myopic owl than the Legendary Dark Knight of Gotham City...

"Where is he, by the way?" Terry asked softly.

"He's getting groceries," Bruce replied shortly, turning his attention back to the table.

"When do you think he'll be back?"

"We can't be sure he'll ever come back. The Time Stream may decide to return him to where he belongs."

"Where he belongs..." Terry mused, thoughtfully.

"What?" Bruce asked sharply, glaring over at Terry again.

"Did you think that maybe the Time Stream is sending him to where it thinks he belongs?" Terry asked. "Tim said that the other Robins came and visited him just when he was starting out. Maybe they came to support him when he was feeling—"

"A thing you will learn about Tim, very quickly in fact, is that he doesn't need anyone's support. It's a point of pride with him."

Terry wasn't sure what to say to that. He watched Bruce's face and it looked grimmer, more intent that Terry had seen it in a while.

"Are you sure?" Terry asked Bruce softly.

"Go train," Bruce ordered.

Terry went.

Suiting up, Terry pulled up the program on the Batcomputer that controlled the robots. He kept his eyes on Bruce at the workbench as he went quickly finished pulling on his boots before starting up the robots.

Terry powered through a couple of different scenarios, the first with Luthor, then one with Inque. He was working on a scenario with Blight when the robot got the drop on Terry and tossed him across the room. He was stumbling to his feet when the training seminar suddenly fuzzed out. Terry glanced around to find Tim at the Batcomputer. His hand was hovering over the keyboard, as if he had just finished typing in commands. He was watching Terry with a serious expression on his face.

"I would have gotten him," Terry protested, walking back over to Tim with only a slight limp.

Tim's mouth pressed into a thin line and he shook his head before he answered.

"I know you would have. But it's better to avoid straining too much during training when you plan to head into the field in just a few hours. Tightness in your hamstrings could be a death sentence out there."

Terry shrugged and pulled his mask over his head.

"If I don't train before hand, when am I supposed to train?"

"Your nights off," Tim offered.

Terry laughed at that.

"What nights off?"

Tim's mouth pressed back into that thin line and he cut his eyes to Bruce. Bruce was still leaning over the workbench, sparks flying up around him as he soldered something together.

"What do you think he's doing?" Terry asked, he pitched his voice low but between Bruce's hearing loss and the soldering iron, he was pretty sure Bruce wouldn't be able to hear.

"Trying to send me home, I imagine," Tim replied, his voice matching Terry's.

Terry looked up at Tim sharply.

"You think he wants you to leave?"

"I think I... make him uncomfortable..."

"Did you always?"

"Hard to say..." Tim said slowly, then shook his head to face Terry again. "You took quite a fall. Let's make sure you're properly stretched before we go out again tonight."

"You're going on patrol with me again?" Terry asked hopefully.

"Judging from the data Bruce has collected over the past few weeks, it seems like the Jokerz will continue to escalate their attacks. I suspect, now they know you have backup, they may up the ante and start doing simultaneous attacks. If there's two of us, we can divide and conquer."

"Smart. Wish I had thought of that."

"You'll get there," Tim assured him with a smile.

Tim kicked off his sneakers and walked over to the mats, Terry not far behind him.

Tim settled down into a sitting position on the mats and looked up at Terry expectantly.

"Ok, what stretching routine do you usually use?"

"Ummmm, you know. Whatever."

Tim lifted at eyebrow at Terry expectantly.

"Whatever?"

"I mean, I don't have a routine or anything..."

Tim took a deep breath and patted the mat next to him.

"Oooookay," Tim breathed arranging his legs criss-cross applesauce style. "Let's come up with a routine for you.

"You think I need one?" Terry asked, settling down next to Tim.

"You absolutely do," Tim said. "Let's start with your arms, then we'll move to your torso and legs."

Tim took Terry through a few arm stretches. They were just stretching their wrists and fingers when Bruce came over. He stood over them, his shadow falling across the mat and darkening Tim's face.

"You're teaching him Dick's stretching routines?" Bruce asked, his voice pitched low.

"They are the best ones," Tim said, not looking up from his stretches.

Bruce made a noncommittal sound at the back of his throat and stood over them quietly for a moment.

"Wanna join us old man?"

"I— Don't think I'd be able to get back up. But Tim's a good teacher. Make note of what he says. You might learn something," Bruce said gruffly.

Then he turned walked back toward the stairs.

"Hey, are you heading up for the night?" Terry called after Bruce, watching him walk up the stairs with brows furrowed.

"I have every faith you and Tim can handle yourselves tonight," Bruce said and waved a dismissive hand at them both. "I'm going to get some extra sleep."

Terry looked after Bruce, watching the door to the Manor close behind him.

"Does he do that often?" Tim asked, conversationally.

"Never," Terry said.

"Hmmmm," Tim hummed contemplatively. "Interesting."

"You think he's sick?"

"I think he's maybe calling Dr. Fate to ask about mystical time travel."

Terry turned to look at Tim, who was still eyeing the stairway to the Manor.

"Did the others ever stay this long?" Terry asked him softly.

Tim turned and watched Terry's face for a few long moments before he answered.

"Not with me," Tim said flatly.

"Do you think you'll be able to..."

"Let me worry about that, Terry. You focus on the Jokerz and those hamstrings."

When they were done with their arms, Tim showed Terry how to stretch his torso and stomach. Watching as Tim arched his back and twisted his spine was a little wild. The guy was flexible as fuck. He moved through stretches and into yoga poses and bent in ways that Terry hadn't realized people could bend.

Terry followed along as best he could. He was in good shape and always considered himself to be pretty flexible, but he had nothing on Tim.

"How do you do that?" Terry asked, when Tim easily did a walk over handspring on the mat in front of him.

"Years of practice," Tim said, casually. "Let's do your legs."

Tim took Terry through a few single leg stretches. Terry knew most of the stretches but Tim took them further than Terry realized he could. Tim moved from calf stretch into a split that made Terry wonder how he wasn't crushing his junk.

"Yeeesh, I absolutely can't do that," Terry said, stopping what he was doing to stare.

Tim nodded and came back up to his knees.

"Yeah, you better let me help you with your hamstrings. After the fall you took today, you'll need help or you might get an injury."

Tim instructed Terry to roll over on to his back. Terry laid down and Tim grabbed his right leg by the heel and ankle.

"Tell me when it's too much," Tim said, and slowly began to move Terry's leg back, bending his knee and pushing it down toward his chest. Tim took it slow, eventually bracing Terry's leg against his chest as he leaned forward.

Terry had done this stretch a few times during wrestling practice in highschool, back when he was still on the team. He and his stretching partner had always rushed through it, not really feeling comfortable being that up close and personal with a random team mate. The whole ordeal had felt rushed and awkward.

With Tim, it was totally different. Tim moved slowly, smoothly, pressing Terry's muscles into a tight stretch as he talked him through how he should be breathing.

"In," Tim said in a soothing voice. "Hold it, then exhale slowly."

Tim matched his breathing to Terry's. Terry felt himself relaxing into the stretch, shutting his eyes and focusing on the pull of his muscles and the feel of the air going in and out of his lungs.

"Good," Tim said, softly. "Now we'll switch legs."

Tim slowly eased off of Terry's leg and they moved on to the next one. Again focusing on his breathing and the stretch, Terry felt more relaxed than he had been in weeks.

"This is nice," Terry said, a little breathless as his knee pressed against his chest.

"Stretching is a good way to relax," Tim said. "It's helpful to get into the right mindset before you go out into the field. Push out all the things you're worried about at home. Focus on something other than what an ass Bruce can be..."

Terry breathed out a short huff of a laugh and opened his eyes. Tim was watching him intently with sharp blue eyes. Now that they were closer to each other, Tim's mouth looked softer than it had. His expression was thoughtful and a little guarded.

"I guess you needed to stretch a lot then?"

Tim's mouth relaxed into a wry sort of smile.

"How do you think I got so flexible?"

Tim helped Terry with the rest of his stretches. His cool, longer fingered hands were firm but gentle as they guided Terry into and out of stretches.

By the time they suited up and headed toward the Batmobile, Terry was feeling relaxed and limber.

The feeling didn't last long.

There was a construction site in the middle of Neo Gotham. Wayne/Powers was building a skyscraper and so far they had only gotten to the support beams. Tim and Terry paused during their patrol and found a spot on the top layer of support beams to sit and take a short break.

"God, it's so..." Tim said softly and then trailed off.

"Dirty?" Terry offered.

Tim huffed out a laugh and shook his head. Terry turned to look at him and Tim's face was lit with a sharp smile as the wind blew through his hair.

"Beautiful," Tim corrected. "I was going to say beautiful. It makes me wish I had my camera."

Tim lifted both his hands, forming his fingers into the shape of a square as he took focus and pretended to click a camera.

"You like taking pictures?"

"Yeah, it gives you a unique perspective, you know. Nothing helps you understand a place as well taking pictures of it."

"You had an actual camera? Like a whole one?"

"A whole one?"

"Like one that isn't in your communicator?"

Tim huffed out a laugh and smiled at Terry. Terry felt the breath go out of his lungs and his mouth went dry for a split second.

"Yeah, a whole one. I had a couple of whole ones, actually. It's been a while since I—"

Tim broke off as a sound buzzed from the Batmobile. Tim stood, gracefully making his way over to it and turning up the sound on the police band inside.

"—suspects are heavily armed and carrying tools used in vandalism—"

"Sounds like the Jokerz came out to play," Terry said, coming up behind Tim.

"Time to get to work."

There were four different Joker attacks that night. Tim handled two of them on his own, Terry handled one solo and they took care of another group of them together. Dawn was fast approaching when Tim dropped Terry off on the roof of his apartment building.

"Don't forget to stretch before you go to bed," Tim warned. "You don't want your muscles to tighten up when you sleep."

"Yeah, ok," Terry said. "After some food and a shower."

Tim gave Terry an airy wave as the hood rolled back into place on the Batmobile. Terry slipped down the fire escape and through his bedroom window. He pulled off his uniform and tucked it away in his backpack before heading off to take a shower. He scrubbed down quickly and pulled on his boxers. Padding into the kitchen, Terry scrounged around for something to eat as he tried to remember all the stretches Tim had taught him today.

As he made himself some scrambled eggs, Terry wondered, idly, if he could talk Tim into writing down the stretching routine for him. He ate all his eggs and thought briefly about making more before deciding he was too tired.

He did all the stretches he could remember and just around sunrise, climbed into bed.

The minute Terry's eyes closed, the image of Tim, taking pictures with a fake camera, face full of wonder and amusement, flashed through his mind. The bright blue of Tim's eyes, the easy glint of his smile and the dark fall of his hair haunted Terry's dreams as he slipped into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do Terrys dream of Electric Tims?
> 
> Yes.
> 
> Yes they do.
> 
> So very much.
> 
> You guys wouldn't believe how much...


	3. Do Terry's Dream of Electric Tims?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terry does not sleep very well and subsequently needs to grab some coffee with Max, who roundly mocks him. Tim gives Bruce some shit, does some detective work and rescues his old cameras. Gallivanting ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter earns this fic its Explicit rating. There's some slight non-con vibes at the top of the chapter. It's not non-con, I promise but if you're sensitive to that sort of thing, maybe give this a skip.

They found the four Jokerz in the locker room of Terry's old high school gym. They were spray painting some lockers and their laughs echoed eerily on the tiled walls and ceiling. Tim threw Terry a cheeky smile before jumping right into the thick of them. He had already incapacitated one of them and was in the process of throwing them bodily into another of the Jokerz, when Terry's brain caught up and pointed out to him that he should be helping instead of just watching Tim kick ass.

No matter how nice it was to watch...

Terry shook himself and launched into the fray. It took them almost no time to take all four of them down. Terry used his cuffs on the two closest to him and looked up to watch Tim using his old school plastic zip strips to tie up the other two.

"You know these new cuffs work a hell of a lot better," Terry pointed out.

Tim was bent over, tying the last of the Jokers and Terry tried not to stare too much at Tim's butt as he worked.

Terry failed. Spectacularly.

It was a very nice butt.

Tim stood, turning to smirk at Terry slyly.

"What can I say, I prefer the classics."

"I'm almost positive that you don't..." Terry teased back, grinning at him smugly. "I think you wish you had all my gadgets and it's taking everything you've got not to take them off me."

"You think so?" Tim said his voice had a lilting teasing quality that Terry had heard before and knew spelled danger.

"Yeah... I think so. I think you know yours are so ineffective compared to mine that—"

Tim bit out a sharp laugh and shook his head.

"Ohhh I wouldn't say that..."

"I would," Terry taunted back.

Tim's smile got sharp and sly and before Terry could decide what, exactly, that meant, Tim was on him. He gripped Terry by the wrist and twisted it, just in that same way he had the first time they met in the Cave. Terry could feel his arm, then his spine lock at the joints. Terry couldn't do anything but helplessly follow Tim along as Tim forced him over to the shower stalls. Twisting Terry up again, he zip stripped one, then the other of Terry's hands to one of the shower heads.

"What the... What the fuck?" Terry panted, pulling futility against the small plastic bindings.

"Oldie but goodie," Tim said, nodding up at the zip strips.

"Alright, I get it, you got moves," Terry said still pulling against the strips. "Now let me go."

"No," Tim said, in a cool, even tone of voice that sent shivers down Terry's spine.

"No? Are you kidding me? I—"

"I don't think you do 'get it', Terry," Tim said, his voice sounding almost like a low growl as he leaned to Terry. "I've got more than moves. I've got everything."

Tim used his thickly gloved hand to roughly lift up the bottom of Terry's mask. He tucked it up neatly with nimble fingers and Terry's nose held it in place. Terry shook his head, trying to knock it back down, but it wouldn't dislodge.

"Hey—" Terry started, but Tim's gloved hand gripped Terry's jaw and held his face steady as Tim leaned in and pressed a hot, wet kiss to Terry's mouth.

The focus of Terry's world narrowed in an instant then. A sharp buzzing rose in his ears and his eyes slid shut and all he could think about, all he could feel was the insistent press of Tim's mouth against his own. Terry couldn't help but melt into the kiss, opening for Tim's tongue and moaning deep in his throat when Tim roughly deepened the kiss.

Terry gasped when Tim broke off, rocking back away from Terry with a sharp glint of a smile. Terry felt a rush of heat as his cock thickened way too quickly into a hot erection. It pulsed in protest against the confines of his uniform pants.

"No, I—" Terry tried to say, but wasn't sure he knew how to finish that sentence.

"You what?" Tim asked, almost dismissively as he reached forward and punched the release button on Terry's belt. Tim pulled it from around his waist and tucked it into his own belt, before grinning up at Terry.

"This... This isn't—"

"Oh, it absolutely is, Batman." Tim called him 'Batman' like it was a private joke between the two of them. The sharp roughness of his voice made Terry shiver as his cock twitched and began to leak in his shorts. Terry tried desperately to get his brain to start firing the correct synapses but it was so hard with Tim smiling at him like that.

Like a threat and a promise all wrapped up into one wicked grin.

Before Terry could manage to get his brain back online, Tim had pulled Terry's uniform pants down to his thighs. Terry yelped as his boxer briefs followed quickly after and the cool, slightly damp air of the locker room washed over his hot, aching erection.

"No! The Jokerz. The Jokerz! They're right over—"

"Let them watch," Tim said with a shrug, dropping to his knees on the tiled shower floor. He tilted his head back to grin up at Terry wickedly again before licking at his teeth. "Maybe they'll learn something..."

Then Tim's mouth was on him, wrapped around Terry's cock, and it was hot and it was wet and it was everything Terry could have ever wanted. He couldn't stop himself from shouting for it. His cries echoing sharply and damningly across the tiled walls of the locker room, amplifying and echoing as Tim took him deep.

Even though he was mostly clothed, his top still on and his pants pushed just down past his erection, Terry had never felt more naked, more exposed. 

Tim shifted into a rocking rhythm as he bobbed his mouth over Terry’s erection. Terry couldn’t help but wish his hands were free to grip Tim’s hair, to urge him faster, deeper…

Terry was panting, sweating under the tight heat of his uniform top, trying to muffle his cries as Tim worked him. Then Tim grabbed one of Terry’s ankles and dragged Terry’s leg up over his shoulder. Terry’s thigh was resting on Tim’s shoulder and his calf pressed against Tim’s back. He was struggling to catch his balance when he felt one of Tim’s fingers gently weaving its way between Terry’s cheeks to play lightly at the tight ring of his hole.

Terry let out a strangled cry and heard it breaking out into an echo across the room. No way the Jokerz couldn’t hear. No way the Jokerz couldn’t know. No way they didn’t—

Terry’s train of thought shattered as Tim pressed a slick, firm finger inside Terry, smoothly, inexorably. Terry’s breath caught in his throat and he was trying to remember how to breathe when Tim crooked his finger and hit him in just the right spot. 

Terry lost all sense of himself then. Thrusting into Tim’s mouth and rocking back on his hand in frantic motions that wouldn’t have had a rhythm to anyone but him. He fucked his way into Tim’s mouth and back on Tim’s fingers and Tim just took it and gave him everything. 

Terry was wild, panting almost shouting with the tense energy of it all. He tried to cry out a warning to Tim that he couldn’t take it much more, that he was going to come, that he needed Tim to—

Terry came awake with a start, the shout still on his lips. He gasped out a breath, shaking his head as he came awake in his dark, empty bedroom.

His hands were free.

There was no locker room.

There were no Jokerz.

There was no Tim.

But Terry…

Terry’s erection was still very, very real.

Groaning, glanced at the clock on his phone. It was close to ten in the morning. He had to be over at the Manor by noon.

With a heartbroken sigh, Terry levered himself out of the nest of sweaty sheets that had wrapped around him. Kicking off his damp boxershorts, he stumbled into the bathroom. He briefly considered a cold shower before pushing the taps to hot. 

Terry stepped under the warm spray, trying to drown out the last vestiges of the dream that were still very much top of mind.

It...

Didn't work.

Terry blew out a sigh and shook his head. He reached out a hand to brace on the far end of the shower stall and leaned on it heavily, letting the water hit his over-sensitized skin directly. He shivered as the hot patter of droplets hit his taut nipples and aching erection.

Letting out a resigned groan, Terry took his erection in his free hand and wrapped his fist around it. He stroked in a light easy rhythm that was easy to fall into.

It felt good. Too good...

The dream had been...

It had been intense.

Fucked up to be sure, but intense.

Terry couldn't get the image of Tim grinning slyly up at him through the thick fall of his bangs as he worked his mouth expertly over Terry's cock. He couldn't forget how it felt, being laid out and exposed as Tim did whatever he wanted to him.

Fighting down a gasp, Terry worked his hand faster, his breathing coming in short little pants.

He had been close when he woke up and now...

Now he was back on the edge.

The memory of Tim's hands, Tim's mouth, Tim's wicked smile playing him like an instrument drove Terry further and further. He wondered what it would be like to really have Tim's mouth wrapped all around him, hot and tight and perfect. He wondered how it would feel to have Tim push light, delicate fingers inside of him. He wondered if Tim would smile up at him just as wickedly as Terry's come spattered across his face...

Terry had to muffle a shout as he came in hot thick pulses. He was gasping, knees weak and mind a little shocky as he fought to maintain his footing in the shower.

"Slag it..." Terry hissed out, as the hot water rinsed the stickiness from his hands and cock.

He took a minute to catch his breath before reaching for his soap and washcloth. Terry scrubbed down as delicately as he could, his skin still sensitive and flushed. He showered in record time and his knees were still a bit shaky when he turned the taps off and stepped out of the shower.

Terry's mind was finally clearing as he toweled dry and went in search of some clean clothes.

It wasn't hard to figure out what the dream meant, even for Terry. Tim had him feeling vulnerable, weak, exposed. He had Terry thinking about all of the things that Tim could do better than him.

And, obviously, he had Terry thinking about that smirking mouth, tight ass and long, slender legs.

It was...

A lot to process.

Terry put his shirt on inside out his first try and he fumbled as he tried to competently dress himself. With Tim around, he'd been getting a lot more sleep lately. The meditation techniques he had taught Terry along with the stretches were helping him get rest and fall asleep more easily.

By all rights, Terry should be alert and ready for anything.

But Terry was still feeling a little off-balanced.

Terry grabbed his phone off the nightstand, glancing down at the read out as he walked into the kitchen. There were a couple of texts from the old man asking for some almond milk and oatmeal. Tim had texted him about a potential lead he wanted to discuss and there were a few texts from Max.

**Been a while, champ. Grab some coffee with me at JoJo's this morning?**

The text had come in almost an hour ago and Terry cursed softly before texting Max back.

**Yeah, I can be there in ten if you're still up for it.**

**See you in ten!**

Terry stuffed his phone in his back pocket before he grabbed his keys and jacket. It took him less than ten minutes to get to JoJo's. Mind still reeling a little, he walked fast in the brisk chill wind of the rainy Autumn morning.

Terry got in line and ordered himself and Max each a coffee and grabbed two pastries. He found himself a spot in a corner where he could watch the door and where they would be less likely to be overheard.

Max was, predictably, just on time for their meeting. She stepped into the cafe, huddled up in a thick scarf and a light fall jacket. She glanced around for a quick moment before spotting Terry. She grinned at him widely when she caught sight of him and walked over.

"Hey, Ter! You look like you've actually slept in the last three days."

"Turns out, I actually have. I've had some help recently..."

"Wild. Tell me everything."

Leaving out certain details, Terry caught Max up on Tim’s unexpected arrival.

"So he just turns up, out of the blue. No explanation?" Max asked, sipping her coffee as he raised an eyebrow at Terry.

"He said it had happened before. With other... With the others."

"Do you believe him?"

"Bruce seems to. And he doesn't believe anything," Terry pointed out, tearing off a piece of his pastry and popping it into his mouth.

"What does this guy have to say about you?"

Terry chewed thoughtfully before answering.

"I think he was mad at first, but it was clear pretty early on that it wasn't me he was mad at..."

"He was mad at Mr. Wayne?" Max asked, clearly surprised.

"Seems that way."

"He say why?"

"He told me that he was worried about me. That he thought Bruce was isolating me and not giving me the tools and people I needed to be safe."

"Do you think he's right?"

Terry puffed out a sigh and shook his head.

"If you had asked me that last week, I would have said no, but..."

"But?"

"But working with him, seeing him prove the old man wrong. Watching him do things his way... I'm starting to wonder..."

"Where does that leave you?"

"It leaves me with a guy I think I may really need who may disappear back into the Time Stream any second..."

"Not ideal."

"Not ideal," Terry agreed, taking a long sip of coffee.

"Has he been helping you? Training you?"

"Yeah, actually. Not just how to fight but how to strategize, how to stretch, how to meditate."

"You? Meditate? Oh man, when's the world ending, I need to call my Ma."

"Seriously. It's been... helpful. But I worry that..."

"Yeah?"

"I'm worried he's skipping over the important stuff. Stuff I really need to know. Like he doesn't trust me enough. And I also can't help but wonder..."

"What?"

"Where is he now? I've seen Grayson and Damian. But not him... Where is he now?"

"Does he know?" Max asked.

"He actively doesn't want to. He told me as much when I started asking Bruce questions. He said he doesn't want to disrupt the Time Stream by finding out about his future."

"Do you believe him?"

"Yeah, because Bruce said the same thing."

"Scary."

"Yeah."

"Where do you think he is?"

"Honestly, I wonder if he's even still on this planet at all. There's no cape that I remember who looks or acts like him."

"Yeah, but you're seeing twenty-something him. Not forty-something him..."

"There are some things that wouldn't change..."

"Like what?"

Like his eyes.

Terry doesn't say it, but he thinks it.

Loudly, apparently because Max leaned back in her chair and looks at him thoughtfully.

"He's teaching you what he can, though?"

"Yeah, Bruce said he's a good teacher and he's been great so far, so..."

Max grinned at Terry in that sly way Terry knew always meant that she was about to tell a joke that would be way too honest for Terry to take.

"What?" Terry asked, despite himself.

"Looks like maybe you do need a Robin after all."

Terry blew out a bitter breath and shook his head.

"There's the thing, it doesn't feel like that at all..."

"In what way?"

Terry grimaced and shook his head. He took another sip of coffee to avoid having to answer Max.

"What? Is the guy, like, an Ultra Hottie or something?" Max asked. "I mean, I've seen Nightwing, so I guess I can believe it."

Terry felt his face flush and tried to glare at Max but he obviously wasn't successful because she choked on her next sip of coffee.

"Oh my god! He is an Ultra Hottie! You have a Big Boy Crush on your Robin!" Max spluttered.

"He's not my—" Terry hissed before making himself break off. Max was laughing way too hard to hear a word he was saying anyway...

Terry waited for her to calm down. When she was finally done laughing, wiping very real tears from her eyes, he started back in.

"He's not my Robin and I doubt he feels the same way..."

"Wait, how old is this guy?" Max asked, curious.

"Our age," Terry said defensively.

"Ok, ok, just checking," Max said, putting her hands up and clearly still fighting down laughter. "So what are you gonna do? Gonna put some Bat-moves on the guy?"

"Here's the thing, I think he knows all the Bat-moves in the book and I doubt any of them would work on him..." Terry said wryly, trying hard not to think about how it felt when Tim applied joint locks on him.

"Yeah, but you still have a few tricks up your sleeve," Max said casually, snitching a bite of Terry's pastry.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," she said with a wink. "He doesn't know the Terry-moves. Just lay on some of that McGinnis charm and he'll swoon all over you for sure."

"One: I don't think he's ever swooned in his life. Two: The McGinnis charm requires self confidence and charisma, none of which I have when he's in the room for some reason."

"Awww, how cute."

"It's absolutely not cute, Max..." Terry said impatiently, fingers picking at the cardboard of his coffee cup. "I think he thinks I'm an idiot. I'm worried what he's saying Bruce about me."

Max hummed consideringly.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about. I bet Mr. Wayne would tell you if he was worried. And only an idiot would think you're an idiot and from what it sounds like, he's not an idiot."

Terry puffed out a sigh, wishing he could believe her.

"Ter," Max said, leaning forward to press her hand to his. "I think you need to take from this what you can. Learn what you can. Get what you can from him. This could be your only chance to learn what he knows."

"Yeah, I just have to convince him to trust me enough to teach me the important stuff..."

Max leaned back in her chair and grinned at Terry again.

"Easy! Like I said. Just use the McGinnis charm."

Terry groaned.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

"Tell me about Paxton Powers," Tim said, coming up behind Bruce.

Bruce was, once again, hunched over a workbench, cobbling together small pieces of tech. Some of the pieces looked Thanagarian, some looked Kryptonian, some looked like they came from a Mother Box. Tim would be lying if he said that he wasn't worried about the whole thing blowing up in Bruce's face at any moment.

At least the man was wearing protective goggles...

"I'm not sure it's appropriate for you to know..." Bruce said. "Time Stream."

Tim fought down the urge to roll his eyes.

"I think he's connected to this string of vandalisms the Jokerz are pulling," Tim said.

Bruce sat up and looked at Tim, he put down his soldering iron and pushed his goggles up on to his forehead.

"I would be surprised if that were the case," Bruce said, sounding exasperated. “Someone like Powers isn’t interested in vandalizing dentist offices.”

Tim silently handed Bruce the stack of papers he had prepared the night before, listing the times of the Jokerz attacks and the times on the Powers' Super Secret Shipping Manifests.

"I think he's smuggling something into Gotham and keeping Batman distracted with the Jokerz while he does it. Probably because he knows this particular Batman has a vendetta against the Jokerz."

Bruce eyed the papers, reading them over quickly and paging through the entire document.

"This is circumstantial," Bruce said finally, handing the sheaf of paper back to Tim.

"Circumstantial evidence is still evidence, Bruce," Tim reminded him. "Also, it'll only be circumstantial until someone breaks into one of those ships and checks on what he's bringing in to Gotham."

"It's not good for Terry to get—"

"I'm not talking about Terry. Terry needs to keep going after the Jokerz in a big way so the man thinks his plan is still working. Terry can hand the vandals tonight and I'll do a little light B and E in the shipyard."

Bruce pulled his goggles almost violently off his head and slammed them down on his work bench. He got stiffly to his feet. Grabbing his cane, he hobbled past Tim toward his chair in front of the Bat Computer.

"I'm working day and night to try and find a way to send you home and you're just..." Bruce broke off, his back to Tim he made an angry dismissive swat of his hand in Tim's direction.

"I'm just... making the most of my time while I'm stuck here helping out your much neglected new protege?" Tim finished for him.

"I do not neglect—" Bruce started in hotly, turning to glare at Tim.

"It doesn't matter," Tim said in a cold tone of voice. "I told you already, this happens. I'll end up back at home at some point."

"You trust the Time Stream to send you home?" Bruce scoffed.

"I trust it a hell of a lot more than whatever the hell you're trying to cobble together over there," Tim said, nodding in the direction of Bruce's workstation.

"I'm trying to—"

"You're trying to what? What are you trying to do, Bruce? Do you even know?" Tim asked, coming up settle into his usual spot, back to the Batcomputer, one leg up on the arm of Bruce's chair. He glared down at Bruce, feeling his heart beating heavily in his chest, pulse quickened with anger.

Instead of hitting right back at Tim, Bruce shut his eyes tightly before swallowing hard and shaking his head.

"Yoohoo!" Terry's voice called suddenly from the top of the stairs. They both turned to watch him walk down towards them. "Anybody home?"

"Just us ghosts," Tim joked.

Bruce winced at that.

Terry grinned and handed Tim a paper cup of coffee.

"I always knew this place was haunted."

"Oh, you have no idea," Tim said before taking a sip.

Bruce looked up at him sharply but Tim just gave him a defiant look before turning back to Terry.

"What's your plan for the day?"

"I gotta run some errands for Bruce, then maybe beat up some Jokerz."

"Ohhh, can I tag along? I'd love to see the rest of the city. I just wish—"

Tim thought regretfully of his cameras, all tucked neatly away in their cases back in his apartment years from now.

"You wish what?"

"I wish I had my cameras. This place is amazing and I can't help but miss..."

"There's still a few upstairs," Bruce said, he wasn't looking at either of them as he spoke. He was peering at a read out on the computer screen.

"Are there?" Tim asked, incredulously.

"Yes, the ones you had in high school. They're still... They're in your old room."

"My old room still exists? I thought you had the whole thing blocked off?"

"It's impractical to keep so much space in use when it's just me. Everything's still there."

Tim turned to Terry and smiled.

"You up for an archaeological expedition, McGinnis?"

"I'm down," Terry said.

The two of them headed upstairs to the Manor. Terry followed closely on Tim's heels as he made his way to the wing of the Manor where all their bedrooms had been. Bruce had mostly been living on the first floor, the stairs obviously too much for his bum leg these days. Tim wondered what it must have cost him to leave his old bedroom behind. To leave all of their bedrooms behind.

Tim pushed the thoughts from his head as he rounded the stairs to the landing.

Terry let out a low whistle as they started down the hallway.

"I knew this place was huge but, man. How many rooms are on this hall?"

"I think eight," Tim said. "The one at the far end was Bruce's. The Master Bedroom. It's huge. Then the rest of us sleep here."

Tim pointed to the bedrooms as the two of them made their way down the hall.

"That was Duke's, this one Cass and Harper shared. That one was Jason's. The purple one is Steph’s. There's Damian's. That one up there is Dick's. And this one is mine."

Tim and Terry came to a stop in front of the closed door to Tim's bedroom. Tim wasn't used to seeing it look either dusty or having it be closed. He hesitated only for a moment before twisting the knob and pushing the door open.

The bed had a sheet over it, as did the dresser and the shelves. All of the furniture was shrouded in drop cloths and the curtains were shut tight. Terry moved over to them and pulled them open.

A shower of dust fell down over him and Terry coughed, stepping back and shaking himself as if to rid himself of the dust. Both of them had to blink past the dim sunlight that suddenly flooded the room.

Tim looked around as his eyes adjusted. Everything looked like it was roughly in the same position he had left it. Terry started pulling the sheets off of the pieces of furniture and Tim found that his bed was still made with the same bedspread he had ever since he moved into Wayne Manor. His dresser was still lined with the same snapshots and knick knacks he had displayed on it now. While his shelves had a few more books and games than he remembered, everything looked mostly in place.

Tim swallowed hard as he looked around the room. He told himself that the stinging in his eyes was from the dust, and nothing else.

"Who are all of these people?" Terry asked and Tim turned to find him looking at one of the framed snapshots on Tim's dresser.

Tim walked over to look at the picture over Terry's shoulder.

It was a picture of all of them. Steph had staged it years ago. They were all down in the kitchen during some holiday or other. While Alfred was off somewhere else, probably wrangling Bruce, Steph had coaxed them all to sit on the countertops in the kitchen. All nine of them, sitting in a row, feet dangling over the tiled kitchen floor, grinning mischievously as they waited for Alfred to catch them,

Tim had propped his camera on a stool in the kitchen and used the timer to get them all in the shot.

The counter top was L shaped so they all sat more or less facing each other in the shot. Tim was on the far end, barely smiling as he looked intently at the camera, worried he'd have to do a couple more shots. Cass was next to him, in her favorite dress and smiling happily at him. Steph was next, arm around Cass' shoulder affectionately as she mock glared at Harper, who was sitting next to her. Harper was grinning widely at the camera, having just pinched Steph to get her to move over. Next to her was Dick, and then Jason. They had their arms around each other, both grinning broadly at the camera, clearly delighted to be making mischief in the kitchen while Alfred wasn't there. Duke was next, eyeing Damian warily. His smile was slight. It was obvious he was more focused on Damian and all the animals hovering at Damian's feet. Damian was at the other end of the picture, Titus and Pennyworth curled up next to him. He was looking down at them affectionately, not smiling at the camera, clearly caught unawares in that moment as he looked lovingly down at his animals.

Tim remembered vividly how it had taken Steph twenty minutes to corral all of them into the kitchen and get them set up on the counter tops. He remembered how loud they all were, the laughter and the barking and the teasing. He remembered Alfred coming down and catching them not two minutes after the picture was taken. The kitchen had erupted into chaos as he scolded them all and chased them out of the kitchen.

Alfred had pretended to be furious but later he asked Tim for a copy. Tim had presented it to him at Christmas, framed in a neat black wooden frame with a red bow atop it. Alfred had teared up and his voice had been tight when he thanked Tim for the gift.

Tim felt his own throat getting tight then too.

"That's... That's all of us," Tim said simply.

"Where are they all now?" Terry asked.

"Don't... Don't ask me questions like that, Terry," Tim said, taking the picture from Terry and putting it back on his dresser face down.

Terry turned to look at him sharply.

"What? What do you mean?"

Tim took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to explain it to Terry.

"It's just... It's hard. Time travel, multiverse travel, whatever it is... It's just... It's hard. In a flash you're in a place where everyone you know is either dead or doesn't exist and you need to adapt to not having any sort of support system or at least not one you recognize and you need to... There's a lot of pointedly not thinking about things involved... is what I mean."

"And you don't want to think about them?" Terry asked, nodding in the direction of the pictures.

"Terry if you don't... If you don't know who they are that could mean that they're dead or—" Tim broke off and shook his head, unable to finish the thought. "I just can't deal with that right now. I just need to... I need to not think about it... until I'm home again."

Terry eyed Tim and nodded his head in understanding. Tim gave him a watery smile and moved towards his closet.

"I keep my cameras in here," Tim called back to Terry.

Tim dug around in his closet until he found his trunk of photography equipment. He could see Terry out of the corner of his eye, picking up each snapshot and looking at it closely before setting it back down. He made his way around the room, looking up at all the framed pictures on the walls.

Tim picked out one of his favorite cameras. An old one, one of his first. But probably his favorite. Tim grabbed it, the lenses and the case. He slung the dusty camera bag over his shoulder before tucking the trunk back in the closet. He closed the closet door and turned back to find Terry standing in front of one large picture in the center of the far wall in Tim's room.

It was a picture of Gotham City from above. The sun was shining down on the city for one rare moment. White birds cascaded out through the frame as golden sunlight shone down on the roof of Wayne Tower. If you squinted in close, you can see the bright blue flash of Dick's uniform as he waved up to Tim from the top of Wayne Enterprises.

"How did you take this one. With a drone?"

"Not... quite," Tim said, coming to stand beside Terry and look at the picture.

Kon had actually helped him take the picture. It was a rare beautiful late May day in Gotham. The spring winds had blown the clouds that usually hovered heavily over the city out to sea. Kon had taken Tim flying and he couldn't help but snap pictures as they glided past skyscrapers.

It had been... a good day.

"You really like this stuff, huh?" Terry asked, pointing back to the picture with his thumb.

"Yeah, I do." Tim said, starting to pull the sheets back over his furniture. "It's been kind of a constant in my life. It helps me... oh, I don't know... internalize my life... somehow. Like, I can experience it and then look back on it with a sort of meditative mindfulness that gives you a sort of focus. You know?"

"I absolutely do not know," Terry said, tossing the sheet up over Tim's dresser. "I don't think I've ever really thought that much about a picture I'd taken. Ever."

"You should try it sometime," Tim said.

"You mean like right now?" Terry asked, smiling at Tim.

"I absolutely mean right now," Tim said, smiling back.

Tim grabbed some fresh batteries from the Cave, then they grabbed one of Bruce's cars and headed out into Gotham City. Terry drove as Tim scoped out some likely spots. They parked the car not too far from Gotham City Park and started out on foot.

Tim looked at everything with a fresh set of eyes, with photographer's eyes. 

"You do this a lot?"

"Not as much as I'd like to anymore, but I still make time for it," Tim said, snapping a picture of the Gotham City street. "I used to do it a lot more often. When I was much younger."

"Yeah?"

Tim paused to grin at Terry.

"Did you ask B how I became Robin?"

"Turns out, the old man isn't very receptive to questions like that," Terry said with a shrug.

"Yeah," Tim said, lifting his camera back to his face, mostly to hide the expression he knew was probably in his eyes just then. "I can see that."

"How did you?"

"Become Robin?"

"Yeah."

"Well, long story short, I figured out his secret identity, but that's not the cool part."

"You figured out his secret identity?" Terry spluttered.

"Yeah, but that's not the cool part," Tim repeated.

"Ok, I'll bite. What's the cool part?"

"I used to follow him and Robin around, taking their pictures at night."

"Wasn't that ultra dangerous?"

"Oh, for sure."

"Did you ever get hurt?"

"Not badly. At least not back then."

"God, how did you sneak out past your parents?"

"That... wasn't hard."

"That was the hardest part for me," Terry said bitterly.

"Your parents are still around?"

"My mom, at least. And my kid brother. My dad... He passed away... just around when I... started with Bruce."

Tim nodded.

"Yeah I know how that is."

"It's hard. To lie to them."

"It's impossibly hard and heartbreakingly essential," Tim agreed.

"Jesus, no one's ever..." Terry came to a stop abruptly and just looked at Tim with an almost wondering expression on his face. "That's exactly what it is. I've never. No one's ever put it that way before."

Tim nodded and gave Terry a sad little smile.

"Bruce doesn't get it. Not really. He thinks he does. But... He's never had anyone he had to lie to like that..."

Tim could see Terry's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard.

"Yeah... I guess not."

"What happened?" Tim asked softly. "With your dad."

"It was... It was some Jokerz. They broke into my dad's place and just..." Terry broke off and shook his head, looking away from Tim. Tim could see the tears starting to spring in his eyes but he decided not to say anything.

"Hence you taking them out with malice aforethought?" Tim asked, interestedly.

Terry let out a bitter little laugh.

"Yeah, them and Powers. He's really the one who—"

"Paxton Powers?" Tim found himself cutting Terry off without actually meaning to.

Terry turned sharply to look at him.

"Nah, his dad. Derek Powers,"

"Interesting..."

"How do you know about Powers?" Terry asked.

They had made their way to the park and Tim picked an empty bench for them to sit down on. It was made of some synthetic material Tim had never seen before. It seemed at the same time both cleaner and more dirty than any of the park benches in his time.

"I've been digging into this thing with the Jokerz. The times of their attacks coincide with delivery times on shipping manifests for goods being imported by a company I tied back to Paxton Powers," Tim explained.

"You think he's using the Jokerz again? To distract me while he... While he what?"

Tim shrugged and leaned back on the bench.

"Hard to say. Is there anything he's usually caught up in? Drugs? Arms? Human Trafficking?"

Terry coughed out a bitter laugh and shook his head.

"All that and more," Terry said.

"Oh good. So it'll all be a happy little surprise when we crash his boat party."

"You have a plan to do that?"

"Yeah, I say that when the Jokerz make their next move, we divide and conquer. You take care of the Jokerz and I pay a nice little visit to one of Paxton's boats. Once I get evidence and you're done playing Bash the Clown, we take out Powers and then go grab a milkshake."

"Has anyone ever told you that you always have the best plans?" Terry asked, grinning at Tim.

Tim leaned back on the bench and grinned back at Terry.

"It's been said."

“I’ll just bet.”

“I’ll handle patrol tonight and keep an eye out for Jokerz, you get some extra shut eye. I’ll call you when the action starts.”

They walked around the park a little longer after that, just talking.

Terry told Tim about his most recent breakup with Dana. How Matt was starting to get into the debate club and how it was harder than ever to talk the kid into doing his laundry. He told him about how he'd been helping his mom pay her bills but some medical stuff had come up and now they were both strapped for cash.

"Did you ask Bruce for an advance or something?"

"Nah, I can't do that. He already does so much for me."

"Oh man, you need to use the B connection to your advantage. You’re carrying on his legacy. The least he could do is lend you some cash."

"Cash?"

"Money? What do you call it now?"

"Credits?"

"Yeah those. He has plenty. He can spread it around."

Terry hummed noncommittally and looked thoughtful for a long time.

"You were... All of you were his kids? Back then? In the picture."

Tim nodded his head slowly in response.

"More or less. We'd all wander in and out of the Manor at different points in our lives but he always had our rooms just as we left them. Just in case we needed to come back."

Terry looked like he was thinking about that pretty seriously for a few long moments.

"You were all... Did you all..."

"We are all involved in the Mission to some degree or another. Some of us for longer than others. Some of us getting out of it in better shape than others..."

"But you all had each other."

"Yeah, I mean... That was the best part. Bruce was great, but one of his greatest strengths is that he always surrounded himself with people he knew would make him better somehow. And all of us together... We were a force to be reckoned with. On the streets or at the dinner table."

"Do you think that's what he did with me? He brought me in because of my strength? Or do you think it was because I was his only option?"

"I— Couldn't say for sure. I do know he keeps you around for your strengths, that's for sure."

"I'm nothing like him—" Terry began but Tim cut him off with a laugh.

"You are more like him than you'll ever know," Tim said.

"You think so?"

"I do, yeah,” Tim said quietly, and brought his camera back up and into focus before taking a picture of the contemplative expression on Terry’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to post the next installment. Work has been eating my life! 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!


	4. Time is Unforgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim and Terry blow some shit up. Then they have a beer and a long talk.

Terry came awake with a start, feeling someone hovering over his bed. Lashing out with one arm, he felt his wrist caught in a gloved hand and heard a familiar voice speaking to him a low, calm tone of voice.

"Terry, it's me. The Jokerz made their move. We need to go."

It was Tim. He was suited up and sitting on the edge of Terry's bed. He was looking down at Terry with intent eyes and in that moment Terry was all too aware that he had gone to sleep that night in nothing but a pair of threadbare boxers.

He flashed back to the dream he had the night before. The feeling of being bound and vulnerable as Tim took what he wanted from him.

Terry had to fight down a shiver and he shook his head to clear it before he answered. "Where did they hit?"

"Down by the Art Museum. It's apparently a group of about eight. I think they're used to us playing doubles," Tim said, standing and tossing Terry his uniform.

Terry got out of bed and tried to slip into his uniform as smoothly as he could without making it obvious to Tim that he was rocking a halfie.

"The Batmobile is parked a few blocks away in an empty lot. I'll take the bike and head to the docks."

"Yeah, ok," Terry said.

Tim turned to leave and Terry called him back.

"Is the old man up?"

Tim grinned at him.

"Nah, he's still asleep. Just you and me tonight, partner."

Terry nodded.

"Be careful," he said as Tim slipped out his bedroom window.

"Always," Tim answered back with a grin. "You too."

And then he was gone.

Terry pulled on the rest of his suit and called the Batmobile to him. His whole block was asleep and he made his way to the roof of his building to slip inside. He was in the Art District in less than three minutes.

It was obvious which building the Jokerz were in because it was flooded with brilliant light. Judging by the number of vehicles parked outside the building, it was clear that they had come with numbers in mind tonight.

Terry carefully disabled each of the vehicles before turning his suit cloaking on and slipping into the building. He found them on the second floor of the museum. The security guard was bound with his own torn uniform shirt and HAHA was spray painted on his bare chest. A group of about eight Jokerz were shambling around the exhibit hall armed with spray paint, metal pipes, and more.

Terry eyed them, trying to figure out which of them posed the greatest threat to him

"How many are there?" Tim's voice came in, smooth and comfortingly through the comlink.

"Looks like eight. I think there are more upstairs."

"Jeez, they weren't kidding around tonight. How are there that many of these assholes left considering how many we've so recently given concussions?"

Terry huffed out a quiet laugh at that.

"Beats me."

"They are a grease painted Legion," Tim lamented on the other end of the line. "I'm at the dock yard now, by the way. I can see the ship that Powers is using tonight. It's just initiating docking procedures."

"How long until you can access it?" Terry asked.

"Hmmmmm, maybe another thirty minutes?"

Terry took a deep breath and eyed his Jokerz.

"Yeah, ok. I'm going to go in and try to meet you at the docks as soon as I can."

"Roger that," Tim said.

Terry went back to the guard. Gesturing for him to keep silent, he let the man go and urged him to head off and call the police. Then Terry back tracked to the exhibit hall. They were still milling chaotically about, tagging every available surface, painting mustaches and breasts all over the pictures hanging on the wall. Even the abstract art...

Terry managed to disarm two of the Jokerz with the most aggressive looking weapons before they spotted him. They called upstairs to the rest of their gang, and then they all rushed Terry.

Using his thrusters, Terry blasted up and over them, turning a flip midair and tossing out a few gas bombs. He pulled his own gas mask down over his face as they all started to cough and wheeze. A few fought through the gas and rushed him.

Terry moved in to take the largest of them first. He grabbed the man's wildly swinging right hook. Taking the man by the arm, he used his weight against him and sent him reeling into the two other Jokerz that were still standing.

Terry pulled out his taser batarangs and started tossing them through the gas, knocking the Jokerz out one by one as he moved past them. Just when he was finishing up with the last of them, six more came barreling down the stairs.

"Did they bring elephants with them?" Tim asked conversationally over the coms.

"Nah, just a bunch of big dumb dregs," Terry said, with a laugh.

"Damn, I was hoping we could bring an elephant back to the cave for B," Tim joked. "We could keep him in Batcow's old spot."

"Batcow?" Terry asked, incredulously.

"Ohhhh, remind me to tell you that story when you aren't actively beating up thugs," Tim said. "You're going to love it. I'm on the boat by the way. Making my way to the hold."

Terry fought down a laugh as he caught the six other Jokerz in the stairwell. He used the enclosed space to his advantage, easily dodging clumsily waved baseball bats and hitting this last group with a few well aimed taser bursts.

Terry was just about to ask Tim to tell him about the cow now, when the cops burst in.

"Freeze!" The first one in shouted.

The Jokerz that were still conscious all groaned as the cops flooded in and surrounded them. Terry took that opportunity to head back out to the Batmobile.

"You find the hold?" Terry asked Tim over the coms.

Tim was silent on the other end for a few long moments before he responded.

"Terry... Blight's here," Tim's voice had not a trace of humor left in it.

Terry felt his stomach drop out as remembered the visceral heat of taking a punch from Blight. He also remembered that Tim's suit didn't have nearly the amount of armor or radiation blocking elements as Terry's did.

"I'm on my way. Don't engage. Blight is—"

"He just spotted me," Tim cut in.

"Wait what?"

"Now what have we here?" Blight's lilting voice came over the com and Tim went silent.

Terry's heart dropped out and he launched the Batmobile into overdrive, rushing to the docks as quickly as he could.

Terry was about five minutes out from the dock when he saw a large billowing plume of smoke lofting up from the dockyard. Large bouts of flame were lighting up the night sky and casting shadows on the clouds above him as he kicked the Batmobile up and urged it fly faster.

When he got to the dockyard, Terry had no trouble locating the action. Taking a moment to assess the scene from above, he saw a medium sized ship. The cargo hold at the back of the ship was actively on fire and thick black smoke poured out of the portholes and an area in the side of the hull that had obviously been blasted out.

Tim was on the side of the ship that wasn't actively on fire. He was facing off with a green, brightly glowing Blight, who was throwing flaming objects at him as Tim dodged and kept his distance.

Terry put the Batmobile into autopilot as he hit the button to retract the top of the vehicle. He jumped out to land on the deck beside Tim, who was palming some gas bombs. He didn't even pause to acknowledge Terry as he tossed the gas bombs in Blight's direction.

The bombs exploded, sending short tufts of gas up around Blight's face. Blight just laughed maniacally as he grabbed a lighting fixture from one of the structures on the ship, set it on fire, and threw it at both of them.

Terry ducked left and Tim ducked right and the flaming lamp flew past both of their heads.

"I don't remember anything in B's notes about how to take this guy down," Tim said over the coms, sounding a little breathless as he eyed Blight. "How do you usually take this guy out?"

"That's... a good question," Terry answered as Blight screamed something profane at the two of them and melted a stretch of railing on the deck. "He usually kind of just... defeats himself..."

"He... what?"

"I mean, he's not great at this. He usually gets mad, does something dumb and then like incapacitates himself..." Terry explained.

"I literally have no words," Tim said as he swung up the long arm of the cargo loader to get up and above Blight.

"Yeah, I didn't actually expect Powers to be smuggling his crazy dad..."

"Neither did I. Of all the things he could be smuggling, a man made of fire and radiation seems like the least lucrative... Distract him for a second, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Terry tried a couple of batarangs, tossing them in Blight's direction as he took off to try and flank him. Blight just sort of blasted them out of the air with the heat that came off his arm. Terry puffed out a sigh.

"How many things does he usually destroy before he idiots himself into submission?" Tim asked, hitting some controls on the arm of the cargo loader to swing the large metal hook on it at Blight.

Terry used a few more flashy tricks to keep Blight's attention. Just as he was raving about how he would drown Terry like a kitten, the hook from the cargo loader hit him on the side of the head. He went flying back and into control center of the ship. Blight crashed through the windshield of the navigation bay, several things melting and catching on fire as he did.

"Couple of buildings, maybe?" Terry mused. "Should we try dropping him into the ocean?"

"How much radiation is he kicking off? Are you willing to be responsible for single handedly mutating Gotham Bay's seal population into man eating seal faced monsters?"

"Yeah, that sounds like maybe it would be a problem for me a few years down the road," Terry admitted with a grimace. "Any other ideas that don't involve murderous aquatic mammals?"

"He had to have been in something during the voyage, right? Like something that would hide his glow and radiation signature from the crew, right?" Tim ventured.

"You think it's in the hold?"

"Yeah, I saw what looked like a large cargo container, it was bigger than the others. I was thinking it might be lead lined, probably inflammable and just what we need..."

"So we just need to lure him down to it?"

"Nope, the hold is on fire. You distract him, I'll pull it out with the Batmobile and then we drop it on him."

"So I bait the big glowing radiation monster while you go into a cargo hold that is actively on fire and try to extract a very large heavy box that we're going to drop on this idiot?"

"Exactly."

"We're gonna die."

Tim grinned at him.

"Oh, come on. It'll be fun. When's the last time you got to drop a big box on a supervillain?"

Terry sighed and watched Blight as he climbed out of the mess of broken glass and melted metal beams that used to the helm of the ship.

"Fun. Sure..."

Tim threw Terry one last grin before calling the Batmobile over to the hole in the hull of the ship. Then Tim took off towards some stairs going down to the cargo hold. Terry watched as Tim disappeared into a wall of smoke.

"Be careful down there," Terry said to Tim through the coms.

"You be careful up there," Tim shot back. "You've got the glowy green guy."

Terry did, indeed, have the glowy green guy, which Blight was all too happy to remind him about. He looked over to see Blight ripping the steering wheel of the ship, heating it until it started on fire before he threw it heavily at Terry.

Engaging his thrusters, Terry dodged it, just barely. Blight screamed in frustration and then suddenly something hit Terry in the side when he was midair. At first all Terry felt was shock as whatever it was hit him, then he went cold over all. He hit the deck of the ship, then the pain washed over him. The entire left half of his body hurt, despite the protection of the suit.

Blight wasted no time in pressing his advantage. He rushed over to Terry, grabbing him bodily by the leg and shoulder. The suit was fire retardant and heat resistant. It wouldn't melt and it wouldn't catch on fire but Terry could still feel the excruciatingly hot grip of Blight's hands through the suit.

Blight was lifting Terry over his head to heave him bodily over the side of the ship when a missile came out of nowhere and hit Blight on the shoulder. He gasped, dropped Terry and rocked forward. Blight fell to his hands and knees and Terry took that opportunity to engage his thrusters to put some distance between himself and Blight.

"Farther back, farther back," Tim called to him on the coms.

Terry tripped and stumbled to get as far away from Blight as he could. Still blinking the black spots from his eyes, he saw the Batmobile hovering heavily in the air over him. It was working in overdrive to lift the box high enough to get it over Blight.

Terry could hear the strain of the vehicle’s engines over the com as Tim pushed it to its limits, pulling up on the box.

Tim hit Blight with another missile just as he was trying to get back to his feet. That knocked the man onto his stomach, and Tim finally edged the box high enough to get it over the railing of the ship.

"Brace for impact!" Tim shouted over the com before angling the box over the deck and letting loose on the rope that was holding it.

It hit the deck with a loud crash, but fortunately the deck held. Tim tugged the box to one side, the opening facing where Blight was once again staggering to his feet. Tim shot around with the Batmobile before firing one more last missile. It caught Blight in the stomach, sending him reeling back into the box.

"The controls are on the inside. Hit them to close it and then destroy them!" Tim shouted down to Terry.

Terry engaged his thrusters again to bring him just outside the box. Blight was a struggling glow of green limbs in the back of the box as Terry hit the control to close the door of the box. As it began to close, Terry lodged a batarang in it. It started to spark as Terry backed away, but the door continued to close.

It shut up tight over Blight, closing him in. Terry could barely hear his enraged cries from the inside of the box.

The Batmobile kicked up some wind as Tim brought it to a hover above Terry. He jumped down on the deck beside Terry and eyed the box.

"Sooooo, time to call the cops?" Tim suggested.

"Absolutely," Terry wheezed out.

They called the cops and the fire department. They hung around to make sure Blight didn't get out until the containment unit arrived to cart him off to wherever they thought they could keep him.

"See, I told you it would work," Tim said, grinning at Terry as they climbed into the Batmobile.

"Yeah, but you also said it would be fun. It was not fun."

"I mean, it was fun for me," Tim said casually and punched in the coordinates to the Batcave. "It's not my fault you don't like fighting green glowing monsters as much as I do."

Terry couldn't help but laugh as they headed back to the Cave.

^*^*^*^*^*

Bruce still wasn't awake when Tim and Terry got back to the Cave. As much as Tim tried to keep the mood light during the ride back to the Cave, Tim was worried about Terry. The suit did a pretty good job of hiding the evidence of any injuries, but Terry sounded dazed, in quite a bit of pain.

Tim brought the Batmobile to a halt next to the other vehicles in the Cave. He helped Terry out and led him directly to the medical bay. Terry didn't protest, just limped along with Tim to the small cot tucked in one corner.

Terry sat down heavily on the cot and yanked off his mask as Tim grabbed the medical kit and popped it open. Terry popped off his belt and painfully pulled his uniform top over his head. Then he shimmied his boots and pants to the floor of the Cave.

Terry's skin was pale, paler than Tim's even. The fresh bruises he got from Blight were already purpling up beneath his skin. There were large red welts in the shape of hand prints on Terry's left shoulder and thigh.

"He got you good, huh?" Tim asked, palming a couple of painkillers and handing them to Terry.

"Yeah, once or twice. He get you?"

"I kept a distance. I knew I wasn't a match for him without one of those fancy suits you have."

"I don't know about that," Terry said. "It was you who came up with the idea that beat him.”

"Hmmm, if we had given him another ten minutes, I suspect he would have tired himself out and found a self destructive end to that encounter." Tim said. "He's like a radioactive toddler."

Terry huffed out a laugh as he took the painkillers from Tim and downed them dry.

"You're not totally wrong..."

Tim was applying burn salve to Terry's shoulder when he heard the sound of Bruce walking heavily down the stairs. Bruce was wearing a pair of loose house slippers and a robe over a pair of pajamas. The robe was a faded black color with Bruce's initials embroidered on the breast. Tim recognized it as a gift Damian had given Bruce for Father’s Day a few years before.

Bruce came to a stop beside the two of them and looked down grimly at Terry.

"I see your sense of fashion hasn't changed," Tim said, nodded at Bruce's robe.

"I keep telling him to get rid of that thing and get a new one," Terry complained. "There's something sticky in the pocket I have never been able to get clean."

Tim looked at Bruce with a lifted eyebrow.

"An unfortunate incident with some confiscated marshmallows," Bruce said, lifting a pointed eyebrow at Tim.

Tim didn't bother fighting down a grin.

"Those poor marshmallows," Tim teased. "They could have met a much better end."

Bruce huffed out a short laugh and he sat down heavily on a stool beside Terry.

"Blight?" he asked as he eyed Terry's burns. "I'm glad I reinforced the suit after your last run in with him."

Terry confirmed it was Blight and winced as Bruce prodded his burns with firm, confident fingers.

"He's in custody," Tim said. "Along with probably three quarters of the ranks of the Jokerz at this point."

Bruce looked up sharply at Tim.

"You captured him?" Bruce asked, clearly surprised.

"We did," Terry said, smiling smugly at Bruce. "We had this excellent plan."

"Oh?" Bruce asked. "What did you do?"

"Remember that time there was a family of baby raccoons in the backyard and Damian decided they needed to be somewhere that the foxes couldn't get them?"

"You caught him with a box on a rope?" Bruce asked, lifting at eyebrow up at Tim.

"Got it in one," Tim said.

"I suppose he bit a lot less than the baby raccoons..." Bruce mused thoughtfully as he began applying burn salve to Terry's upper thigh.

"Bit less, cussed more," Tim confirmed, grabbing another tube of salve and working on Terry's shoulder.

"You're uninjured?" Bruce asked.

"I mean, I could do with an iodine bath, but I'm fine," Tim said. "It was Terry he got a hold of."

Bruce hummed thoughtfully.

"The decontamination shower still works. Toss the suit in while you're at it."

"You got it, Boss," Tim said and gave Terry an airy wave as he went to decontaminate.

He scrubbed off and left both the suits in the chamber, wondering if Bruce still had a functioning incinerator.

By the time he found a clean pair of Terry's uniform pants and an undershirt to pull on and got back out to the Medical Bay, Bruce had finished up with Terry's burns.

"Feeling better?" Terry asked Tim with a grin.

"Better than you, I'm guessing," Tim said. "Bruises too tender or did you want me to massage them down?"

"Massage them down?" Terry asked, looking confused.

"There's ways to move the blood under the skin that'll make the bruises fade faster. B didn't teach you?" Tim asked, sitting on the cot next to Terry and giving Bruce a curious look.

"My fingers aren't as nimble as they used to be," Bruce said regretfully. "I would just make them worse."

"I can see that. I mean, he does have delicate skin," Tim said, eyeing Terry's bruises.

"Hey!" Terry protested. "My skin isn't delicate."

"Terry, I can see your veins," Tim pointed out. "I think you get less sun than I do."

"Sun? Man, that stuff'll give you cancer." Terry said, sounding horrified.

Tim eyed Bruce curiously.

"I guess tanning is no longer a thing?"

"Nope, everyone is too worried about skin cancer. Now they just splice their genes with animals."

"Yiiiikes," Tim said. "Très Langstrom."

"Oui," Bruce agreed.

"What?" Terry asked, looking confused.

"Never mind, this might hurt. Let me know if it's too much."

Tim put his hands over the largest bruise on Terry's arm and warmed the skin with his palms for a few long moments before starting to gently massage the area in light circles.

"Does it hurt?" Tim asked.

"Not as much as I expected," Terry said, his teeth a little gritted. "You think this will help?"

"Yup. I use this all the time. I bruise easily too," Tim said.

It took Tim another ten minutes before he was satisfied with his work on Terry's bruises. Terry gave a faux yawn and made some excuse about needing to head home. He took off in the Batmobile, leaving Tim and Bruce alone.

Bruce watched the space where Terry had gone and Tim rubbed a hand over his face, tiredly.

"He's getting better," Bruce observed. "He's more efficient, more thoughtful since you've been here."

"Hopefully it'll stick when I'm gone."

"You're still certain that the time anomalies will take you back?" Bruce asked.

"I'm... Yes. I think so," Tim said.

"He'll be upset when you're gone. Lonely."

"Good. It'll make him want to join the Justice League even more."

"It's not like it was. And it's not like..."

Tim suspected that the word Bruce pointedly didn't say was 'us'. 

It's not like us.

Tim could see that.

"Maybe Terry will change that," Tim suggested.

"Do you believe that?" Bruce asked.

"I'm not sure."

The silence stretched out between them as Bruce stood and started back toward the stairs to the Manor. Tim walked with him. 

"You know he has feelings for you.”

"I was trained by the World's Greatest Detective, you know."

Bruce ignored the barb as he mounted the first step back up to the Manor.

"It's going to make it even harder for him when you leave."

Tim tilted his head to one side in acknowledgment.

"Yeah, maybe."

"I think maybe it might be hard for you too,” Bruce said evenly.

Tim didn’t answer. 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Bruce said, and turned to start up the stairs.

Tim watched him go, wondering if he would see Bruce in the morning, or if he would be gone. 

When Dick and Jason had come to Tim’s timeline, they hadn’t been there long. A matter of hours, usually. Never even more than a day. Tim had been here for nearly a week. He was starting to wonder if Bruce was right. Maybe he should start looking for a way home…

In the meantime, Tim was going to do what Jason and Dick had done and make the most out of the time that he had, no matter when that time was.

^*^*^*^*^^*

Terry had just slipped into a pair of loose pajama pants and was working on popping open a beer when he heard a tapping at his bedroom window. Walking into the bedroom, he found Tim pushing the window up and slipping inside. 

Tim was wearing one of Terry’s Batman uniforms. He pulled the cowl off and smiled at Terry. 

“Hey,” Terry said stupidly, not totally ready to be faced with Tim again.

The feeling of Tim’s hands, his fingers, moving expertly over Terry’s skin had been… The pain from the burns and bruises had kept his erection at bay, but it was a close thing. He had figured fleeing, at that point, was the better part of valor.

Better than Bruce interrogating him about why he was getting hard from a little TLC.

“Hey, you rushed off. I was… I just wanted to make sure you were ok,” Tim said, eyeing Terry’s bruises.

“Yeah, no. I’m fine. Just thought I’d take advantage of the opportunity for more sleep,” Terry said lamely.

Tim nodded thoughtfully before gesturing to Terry’s beer.

“Got one to share?”

“Oh, uh. Yeah. I do.”

Terry led Tim into his kitchen. Tim looked around his apartment consideringly as they walked. 

“You thinking about redecorating?” Terry joked as he pulled a beer from his fridge. He grabbed the bottle opener from a drawer and popped it open, handing it to Tim.

“How are you not? It looks like a serial killer lives here. Do all the girls you bring home flee in mortal terror?” 

Terry had to admit that his apartment was a little barren. There were no pictures on his walls, all his furniture was cheap and a uniform black. There weren’t really any personal touches to the place. Terry didn’t spend a lot of time here, so it never really bothered him.

Until Tim pointed it out.

It made Terry wonder what Tim’s place looked like. There were probably pictures all over every flat surface like his bedroom in the Manor. 

“It’s not that bad,” Terry said, taking a sip of beer. “And I don’t bring girls home. I know better than that.”

Tim looked at him in a way that made Terry feel like he was looking into him, through him, past his skin and skull and into the thoughts inside his head.

“Noted,” Tim finally said, then smiled at him and lifted his beer. “Thanks for this, by the way. Much better than a milkshake.”

Tim tipped the glass neck of his beer bottle against Terry’s in a quick toast before taking a sip.

“Mmmmm, I forgot you promised me a milkshake,” Terry said.

“Tell you what, next time we lock a radioactive glowy guy in a big lead box, I’ll get you two milkshakes.”

“Deal,” Terry agreed, smiling.

“Bruce said the burns weren’t bad. This suit is amazing. You only have a handful of scars, even.”

“Do you?” Terry asked before he could stop himself.

Tim took another swallow of beer before putting the bottle on Terry’s very barren countertop. He pulled the suit top up over his head and draped it over the back of one of Terry’s bar stools.

“Not as many as B,” Tim said, gesturing to a large angry scar on his stomach, “but enough.”

“Woah, what happened?” Terry said, setting down his own beer and stepping in closer to Tim to get a better look.

Tim made a dismissive gesture and reached for his beer. 

“This life happened,” he said casually taking a sip from the bottle.

Tim’s skin was pale, but as he said earlier, not as pale as Terry’s. Thin white and pink lines of scar tissue criss-crossed his chest, stomach and arms. There were some fading bruises across his rib cage. The thin, neatly trimmed trail of hair that led from his belly button down into his uniform pants was bisected by a thick scar. 

“I guess I never realized how much the suit protects me from…” Terry said, unconsciously reaching out a hand, stopping just before his fingers skimmed over the skin on Tim’s stomach.

Tim reached out a hand and grabbed Terry by the wrist. He had taken off his gloves when he pulled the uniform top over his head and his fingers felt cool on the skin of Terry’s wrist. Terry looked up at his face then. Tim’s expression was serious and his eyes were brilliantly blue and searching.

“The scar tissue is… sensitive,” Tim said, by way of explanation.

“Sensitive?” 

“New skin. It still hurts. Sometimes.”

“I’m sorry,” Terry said, and his voice was soft and low. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s ok,” Tim said, still looking intently in Terry’s eyes. He hadn’t let go of Terry’s hand and Terry didn’t want him to. 

“Tim…”

“You know I… You know I’m going to leave…”

“I know.”

“Terry…”

“I don’t care.”

Terry lifted his free hand to cup Tim’s face. The light brush of stubble along his jaw rasped against Terry’s thumb. Terry moved slowly and cautiously now, stepping in close to Tim and tilting his head back. He brushed his lips softly against Tim’s, not quite a kiss but close. Tim kept his eyes focused on Terry’s face the whole time, his expression cautious and watchful. 

“I’ve been thinking about this,” Terry whispered against Tim’s mouth. “Actually, it’s all I’ve been able to think about.”

“I know,” Tim whispered back, eyes still locked on Terry’s. “I’m a detective, remember?”

Terry couldn’t help but breathe out a laugh against Tim’s lips at that.

“Nothing gets past you,” Terry agreed and pressed his mouth fully to Tim’s.

Tim closed his eyes for the kiss, then. His muscles relaxed and he leaned closer to Terry. Terry smiled into the kiss and deepened it.

Tim's mouth was just as perfect as Terry had imagined. Tim's lips were a little cool and soft against his. He parted them and Terry deepened the kiss, feeling a jolt of arousal shoot through him and pool in his belly.

Tim used his grip on Terry's hand to pull him in closer, wrapping an arm around his neck. The bare skin of their chests pressed together and Terry couldn't help but let out a low gasp.

Tim broke the kiss and looked up into his face. Terry pulled his arm from Tim's grip and wrapped it around his waist, pulling them even closer together. A wave of arousal washed over Terry and he fought down a shiver. 

"That was... exactly what I wanted," Terry husked.

"Just that?" Tim asked, his voice deepened slightly with arousal.

"Starting with that."

Terry led Tim back into his bedroom and they tumbled into the tangled nest of blankets in his bed. Terry rolled Tim under him, propping himself up on his elbows and looking down at him. Tim was looking back up at him with intent, serious eyes.

Terry felt something tighten in his chest as he looked down at Tim. The contours of his face had become so heartbreakingly familiar to Terry over the past few days. He swallowed hard and smiled down at Tim.

Tim lifted an arm to wrap up around Terry's neck. He rocked up as he pulled Terry down into another kiss. Tim shifted, so Terry settled between his legs, their bodies pressing fully together. Terry's erection pressed into the hard curve of Tim's hip and Terry moaned into the kiss.

Tim shifted one of his legs up to hook around Terry's waist and moved them both until Terry's erection was pressed up to the heavy built in jock of the Batsuit. Terry groaned again, but this time in frustration.

"I hate that thing no matter who’s wearing it," Terry groaned against Tim's mouth.

"The feeling is entirely mutual," Tim said, laughter clear in his voice. "Though it is a lot more forgiving than mine..."

"Mmmmm," Terry husked. "I really like the thought of your jockstrap."

"You're a crazy person. It is not at all sexy and deeply uncomfortable," Tim pointedly out wryly.

"Oh man, let a guy have his fantasies," Terry joked, pushing back up and away from Tim.

Tucking his fingers into the waistband of the Batsuit's uniform pants, Terry glanced up at Tim expectantly.

"Let's make you some new ones," Tim said, nudging Terry encouragingly with his calf.

Terry grinned at Tim and pulled the pants down off his legs. Tim helped him kick them off.

Tim was wearing a pair of boxer briefs under the uniform pants. Terry could clearly see the outline of the long curve of Tim's erection under the thin fabric. Heat rushed through him at the sight and he leaned back momentarily to admire the view.

Tim grinned up at him and tucked a toe into the waistband of Terry's sleep pants and gestured for him to remove them. Terry happily obliged, shucking his pajama pants as quickly and gracefully as he could, grateful he wasn't wearing any boxer shorts.

Terry climbed back onto the bed, kneeling with one leg on either side of Tim's hips. He couldn't help but take his erection in his hand and give himself a few short strokes.

Tim's eyes narrowed and as he looked up hungrily at him. Starting with Terry's face Tim's eyes trailed down his body, slowly and deliberately, until he got to Terry's hand gripped firmly on his erection.

Terry lifted his eyebrows at Tim expectantly and grinned.

Tim eyed him thoughtfully and watched Terry's face intently as he worked himself.

Terry felt his face get flushed and he felt his heart rate kick up under Tim's watchful gaze.

"Hey," Terry said, reaching his other hand down to run across Tim's chest. He felt the varied texture of soft skin and scar tissue pulled taut over tight muscles. Remembering what Tim said about the scar tissue, Terry kept his touch light and gentle, just skimming over Tim's skin. When his thumb brushed across one of Tim's nipples, he could feel Tim tense under him.

Tim's breath caught in his throat and his eyes snapped shut as his hand tightened further on Terry's.

"Ohhhh, I liked that," Terry said and ran his thumb a little more firmly over the tight nub on Tim's chest.

Tim didn't make a sound but he went a particular type of silent that turned Terry on more than it should have. When Terry did it again, Tim arched up under him and let out his breath in gasp.

Terry leaned down to press his mouth back against Tim's. Tim tried to kiss Terry back, but he was unfocused as he arched up against Terry's questing fingers. Terry couldn't help but push his hips back down against Tim's.

Terry hissed out a breath as the sensitive skin of his erection pressed against the fabric of Tim's boxer briefs. Tim arched up under him and ground them together.

Tim wrapped one leg around Terry's and twisted up underneath him. Terry suddenly found himself on his back with Tim propped up over him. Tim kicked off his boxers and stood over him at the side of the bed.

Tim leaned down over the bed, pressing his mouth to Terry's in a deep, intense kiss. Terry gasped as Tim kissed his way down to the corner of his mouth, his jaw, his neck, his chest. Tim licked and nipped down the smooth expanse of Terry's belly, pausing only to run his tongue along the underside of his ribcage in way that made him squirm.

When Tim finally came to Terry's erection, he took it in one strong calloused hand. He rolled his eyes up to watch his face as he lapped at the tip of his erection. Terry swore and fought down the urge to rock his hips up deeper into the tight wetness of Tim's mouth.

Tim watched Terry minutely as he lapped and sucked and tongued his way across his erection. Terry squirmed and arched and begged for more. Begged to be deep in Tim's mouth.

He was sweating and shivering under Tim's hands and mouth. Saying Tim's name over and over again like a mantra.

When Terry was wound tighter than he thought he could be, Tim suddenly took him deep into his mouth. Terry hissed out a gasp as Tim rocked his erection deep and sucked. Working into a rhythm, Tim took him almost to the edge before pulling back and off.

"Do you uh... Do you have anything to…?" Tim asked, drawing a hand across his mouth to wipe away the spit and Terry's come.

"Wha? Huh? Oh yeah," Terry gasped.

He twisted over and half climbed, half crawled over to his bedside table. He pulled open the drawer and reached inside, pulling out a tube of lube and tossing it onto the bed within Tim's reach.

Tim grabbed it and placed it next to him on the bed before grabbing Terry by the ankles and pulling him back to where he wanted him.

"Hey!" Terry laughed, squirming and pretending to try and get away. He twisted on to his stomach and reached for his headboard for leverage.

Tim made a low growling sound in the back of his throat and pulled harder at Terry's ankles. Terry ended up laid out on his stomach, arms above his head. Tim made another low sound and rocked up to press a kiss to the base of his spine.

That was when Terry melted back into the bed and stopped fighting against the hold Tim had on him. Tim's mouth was hot and wet on his back as he kissed his way down across the base of his spine. Terry couldn't help but shiver and squirm, pressing his slick, damp erection across his sheets.

"Tim," Terry husked out, but then lost all the breath in his lungs as Tim's hands ran possessively over the curve of his ass. "Hey, that feels good."

"Mmmm, just wait," Tim said and there was a smug smile clear in his voice.

Moments later Tim's slick, thin fingers were probing gently at the ring of muscle around Terry's hole. Terry gasped and squirmed again, rocking his hips into the mattress and flushing all down his back.

"Please, Tim, you gotta..."

"Yes, I really do," Tim agreed and then pressed one finger slow and deep inside of him.

Terry cried out. Tim's finger wasn't thick but it felt so good. It ramped Terry up and made him want more, need more.

He was speaking nonsense, gibberish, as he tried to coax Tim to give him what he wanted.

Tim started to rock his finger in and out of him, pressing deeper each time. He crooked his finger deep inside Terry and a hot flash of pleasure washed over him. Terry's vision whited out and he choked out a gasping cry.

Before Terry actually came back to himself, Tim had pressed a second finger inside him. Terry was feeling frantic, desperate, rocking back onto his fingers and giving him more. Tim took way more time prepping him than Terry wanted.

He eventually gave in to Terry's abject pleading. Rolling him gently onto his back, Tim pulled Terry over to the side of his bed and then hooked Terry's leg over his shoulder. With Terry's butt half of the bed, Tim used one arm to support Terry's weight by his leg and the other arm to guide his erection into him.

Tim pressed inside of Terry slowly, almost gently. He felt perfect, hot and slick and thick and exactly what Terry needed.

When Tim had pushed fully inside, he hooked Terry's other leg over his arm and gripped Terry's hips with tight, firm hands.

Tim moved slowly in and out of him as Terry adjusted to his size. When Terry starting using whatever leverage he had to rock back on to to Tim’s cock, Tim used his grip on Terry's hips to pull Terry firmly back on to his erection. Terry gripped the sheets hard and couldn't help but cry out as Tim angled his erection up to rub at exactly the right spot deep inside of him. 

Terry cried out and then all he could feel was the grip of Tim’s hands as he pulled him onto his erection again and again. All he could focus on was the feel of Tim deep inside of him. All he could he hear was the low desperate sounds Tim made as he rocked Terry onto him again and again. 

Terry tore his hand from the sheets to grip his own erection hard. He couldn’t help but move immediately into the fast, steady motion he used when he was close. 

When Terry came it was with a white hot intensity that rocked through him. He felt his own warm come spatter across his chest and Tim’s belly and he heard Tim over him, panting and swearing as Terry tightened around him. Tim came then too with a stuttering gasp, shutting his eyes tight and making a face that Terry would never forget. 

With breathless pants, Terry struggled to even out his breathing as Tim pulled out and lowered him back down onto the bed. Tim collapsed back down on the bed next to him, breathing hard.

“That… was exactly what I needed…” Terry said, rolling over to his side and pressing a hand to Tim’s chest.

Tim’s heart was still beating hard in his chest and his breathing was still a bit fast.

“Mmmm, yeah. I’m glad you talked me into that,” Tim joked.

“And you said I need more experience strategizing.”

“This should just reinforce my point that Bruce isn’t always right about everything,” Tim said.

“You think he knows?” Terry asked, suddenly feeling serious. He propped up on his elbow and rested his head on the palm of his hand.

Tim gave him an incredulous look.

“He absolutely knows. He probably knew this was going to happen before you did.”

“You think he doesn’t approve.”

“He told me he didn’t.”

“Fuck,” Terry propped himself up straighter and looked down at Tim. “He said something to you.”

“He said he didn’t think you’d handle it well when I was gone,”

“He might not be wrong,” Terry conceded. “But…”

“But?”

“Worth it,” Terry said, grinning down at Tim. Time smiled back at him.

“Just remember that you said that.”

Terry leaned down and kissed Tim softly on the mouth before replying to him a soft husk of a whisper. 

“How could I ever forget?” 

^*^*^*^*

A few days later Terry woke up alone in his bed. Tim had spent every night since they first slept together at Terry’s apartment. Sometimes Tim woke up before him and went to help Bruce at the Manor. Sometimes Tim slept late, Terry pressing a soft kiss to his temple as he dozed before heading off to meet his Mom and Matt for breakfast.

Terry had gotten used to having Tim around. They worked together, slept together, cooked together and drove Bruce mildly crazy together. Terry was learning more and more from Tim each day, getting better, smarter, faster. 

Tim had even given Terry a couple of the pictures he had taken during their adventures in Neo Gotham. Tim framed them and put them up on Terry’s walls one night when he had been out with Max. He came home to find beautiful cityscapes, brilliantly lit night scenes and a couple of snapshots Tim and had taken of the two of them together. 

Terry tried to call Tim, but the phone rang out to the voicemail. He pursed his lips and threw on his jacket. Grabbing his keys, he headed out the door. 

Terry drove over to the Manor a little faster than he should have. He found Bruce alone at his large dining room table, sitting in front of a cold breakfast.

“I’m guessing he’s not here?” Terry asked.

Bruce was silent for a long moment before answering. 

“We were drinking coffee in the kitchen this morning and then…”

“What happened?” Terry demanded, feeling butterflies in his stomach and the feeling of panic start to sound in his head.

“He just faded away. One minute he was mid-sentence and the next he was looking off into the distance like he saw something I couldn’t, and then… He was gone.” 

“Did he… did he say anything?” 

“I don’t think he had the chance. It was… It was almost as if someone was calling to him. Someone I couldn’t see…”

Bruce was staring down at his cup of long cold coffee. Terry couldn’t help but look down at it too. Making that coffee was the last thing Tim had done in Terry’s timeline…

“Who do you think it was? That was calling him?”

“I don’t know… I’d like to think…” Bruce just shook his head slowly from side to side, eyes fixed on his coffee cup. “Are you ok?”

“I don’t… I don’t know. Do you think…” Terry paused and swallowed hard. “Do you think he’ll be back?”

Bruce breathed out a deep sigh and looked up at him for the first time since he came through the door. His eyes were rimmed in red and he looked even older than usual.

“I think… It’s possible. We don’t know how these time anomalies work. Tim said he experienced several but this is the first one either of us have encountered. But I would wonder...” 

“What?”

“I wonder if it only works one way. If everyone only moves forward or if maybe…”

“You think I could go back? To him?”

Bruce looked at Terry thoughtfully for a long moment before speaking again.

“I think it’s possible.”

Terry took a deep breath and walked over to Bruce’s chair. He leaned his butt against the table and looked down at Bruce.

“So…” Terry said on a sigh.

Bruce looked up at him expectantly.

“You ready to start doing some research time anomalies? 

Bruce lifted an eyebrow at him and gave him a grim sort of half smile.

“Way ahead of you, McGinnis.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys all enjoyed this! It was absolutely a labor of, "If no one else is going to write this VERY specific thing I'm fixated on, I guess I will have to do it myself!" Thanks for coming along for the ride!
> 
> Obvi this is a set up for Time Traveling Tim Adventures. 
> 
> Next up - Terry begins some obsessive pining and learns to hone his detective skills...

**Author's Note:**

> Tim has plans for the flying Batmobile. Serious. Plans.


End file.
